


The Malfoy Defiance

by AzenorSage



Series: The Malfoy Defiance Series [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2018-08-07 15:52:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 11
Words: 49,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7720729
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzenorSage/pseuds/AzenorSage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lyra Malfoy, the heiress to the Malfoy family, has chosen to save herself and her fellow Slytherin's from a lifetime of pain in the service of the Dark Lord.  What price will she and her friends have to pay for her defiance?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter nor do I make any money off of this writing. I do this work of fanfiction for fun and the enjoyment of myself, my readers, and the desire to learn through writing this how to become a better author. This story is set in an Alternate Universe (AU). Sequel to the Malfoy Curse.

Prologue

Diagon Alley, The Leaky Cauldron, London, England

July 31, 1991

 

Eleven-year-old Harry Potter sat on a bench in the Leaky Cauldron across from a half-giant named Rubeus Hagrid.  The man had come to collect him from his guardians, his Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon, to take him shopping for his school supplies.  Of course since Harry had never been told before that he was a Wizard, Hagrid had also become his impromptu guide on all things in the Wizarding World.

 

Harry had just finished learning about the evil man called "Lord Voldemort" whom had killed his parents and tried to kill him.  He felt a little shaky and took a drink of his pumpkin juice in order to refortify himself.  “But this man had followers?”

 

“Aye, that is for sure,” Hagrid said, “You Know Who had many followers and not enough of them ended up in Azkaban if you ask me.”

 

Harry thought that over for a moment and then asked, “Who were his followers?”

 

“Oh well there was the Lestranges.  Three nasty sorts.  They are in Azkaban.  Then there was Barty Crouch Jr, Igor Karkaroff, Evan Rosier, Marcus Mulcibur Jr.  Those are the ones that I am know went to prison,” Hagrid told him.

 

“Right,” Harry said softly, “And how about those that, eh, didn’t go to prison?” 

 

Hagrid frowned in thought.  “I’d have to put that slimy snake Lucius Malfoy at the top of that list,” Hagrid declared. “He managed to weasel his way out of a conviction and the same defense was used by many other Death Eaters.  The Malfoy’s have always been dangerous Harry, and their sort it is best to ignore.”

 

Harry nodded his head in understanding though he did not completely understand.  ‘So I should avoid anyone with the name Malfoy,’ he thought to himself.  “What were the names of the other Death Eaters that didn’t go to prison?”

 

Hagrid eyed Harry for a moment as though contemplating whether or not he should tell him.  Then he nodded, “Aye, ye had best be prepared.  Many of them have children, and those kids will be going to school with you.  It would be good for you to know the trash from the good,” he said.  Then Hagrid began listing names.  “Malfoy. Nott, oh Old Nott is a cantankerous old Wizard who believes completely in Pure-blood supremacy.  If old Orran Nott had his way then you and I would not be allowed to even shop in Diagon Alley let alone go to school at Hogwarts,” Hagrid explained.  “Goyle. Crabbe. Parkinson. Flint. Avery.” 

 

Harry took in each of the names and he carefully tried to memorize each of them.  He didn’t want to associate with the children of Death Eaters.  Considering what Hagrid had told him about Harry being the Boy-Who-Lived it worried Harry that some of these people might attempt to harm him.  Dudley’s friends sure didn’t stop trying to harm him when Dudley wasn’t around to lead the charge. In any case he really couldn’t take the risk that these kids would be any different from their parents, could he?

 

He hoped that the girl he had met at Madam Malkin’s Robes for All Occasions was not from one of those awful families.  He had liked her.  She had been kind and there was something about her that drew him in, made him want to get close to her.  He hoped that he would be able to be her friend.  He had gotten the impression that the girl did not really have many friends.


	2. The Sorting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyra Malfoy arrives at Hogwarts and is sorted into one of the four houses.

Chapter 1: The Sorting

 

September 1991

Hogwart’s School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

 

She clung to her sister’s hand and kept her eyes downcast afraid to look anyone in the eye.  She knew what they would see.  Her silvery-gray eyes were still red-rimmed from the tears she had shed on the train.  She felt heart-broken with the revelations of the day and she held to her twin sister’s hand like a lifeline as they were slowly lined up to await the moment that they would be ushered into the great hall for the sorting.

 

She heard the voice of the red haired Weasley boy talking with Harry Potter and she cringed inside.  That hateful, mean spirited red haired boy had been part of the reason for her tears. 

 

She had met a cute dark haired, green eyed boy at Madam Malkin’s robe shop as they were both being fitted for their school robes.  She had conversed pleasantly with the boy.  She had soon realized that he did not know who she was or much about the magical world and she had been gentle in a few of her explanations, and she had been encouraging in telling him that he would enjoy learning about their world.  Before she left the shop she had asked him if she could sit with him on the train and he had smiled at her and agreed.  She had been so happy that she had made a friend, a friend that was not the child of an important family ally.  He would not care that she was a Malfoy.  He would only care about whether she was a good friend and she wanted to be a good friend to him.  It was only when she had rejoined her family that she realized that she had not asked the boy his name.

 

She had been bursting with excitement when she boarded the Hogwart’s Express.  She had stowed her trunk with her sister and then soon after she had left to look for her friend.  She had found him in a compartment seated with a red haired boy.  He had smiled at her until she had properly introduced herself.  Once she had told him, “My name is Lyra, Lyra Malfoy.”  That was when everything had changed.  Gone was the welcoming smile.  Instead a look of revulsion came over his face.  Then the red haired Weasley boy had proceeded to disparage her.  He told her that Harry was too good to be friends with Death Eaters.  As she listened to the Weasley boy denigrate her family name she kept her eyes trained on Harry.  He met her stare for a few moments before he turned away to stare out of the window.  He did not look back at her again.

 

“Harry?” she wasn’t sure what she was asking.  ‘Do you feel the same way as this boy?  Do you hate me because I was born into the Malfoy family?  Do you hate me for things that I have never done?’  She wanted to ask him those questions but they were stuck in her throat and all she could say was his name in a sad questioning voice.

 

She had been met with a deafening silence.  She had stood there, stock still, waiting for him to speak, to tell her that the Weasley boy was way out of line, but he didn’t.  He stared out of the window and it seemed that he was trying to pretend that she did not exist.  She had fled a moment later because she could not keep the tears in check.  She had locked herself in the loo and had cried. 

 

When she rejoined her sister she sat morosely beside her and stared out the window, just as Harry had done, and she tried to pretend that the world did not exist. 

 

The boat ride across the Black Lake was pleasant and soothing to her frayed edges.  She had always loved water and the rippling sounds of the water sloughing against the boat was soothing.  Her sister sat beside her with Theodore Nott behind her.  A boy named Blaise Zabini sat behind Lyra.  The sight of Hogwart’s was very beautiful and it eased some of the hurt within her.  The boys disembarked from their craft first and then acting like proper gentlemen they each assisted Lyra and her sister from the boat.  Then they were led within and lined up to await the moment that they would be sorted. 

 

She felt her hand squeezed and she glanced at her twin sister.  Arya was smiling gently at her.  “It will be okay.  I don’t know what happened on the train, but you must not let it continue to hurt you,” she told Lyra.

 

Lyra nodded her head in agreement and hoped that this would not be a tragic case of easier said than done.  It was a relief when the doors to the Great Hall opened and they were ushered within.  She glanced up at the beautiful ceiling.  It was charmed to depict the sky outside, or so she had read.  She idly listened as another girl pointed out that very fact, and that she had read about it in Hogwart’s A History.

 

Lyra watched as the sorting began with a girl named Hannah Abbott.  She clapped politely as the girl was placed in Hufflepuff House.

 

“Hufflepuff,” sniffed the girl to her right.  She recognized the voice as belonging to Millicent Bulstrode.  “I would rather die than be a lousy Puff, wouldn’t you?” she asked loud enough for the other children around them to hear.

 

It took Lyra a moment to realize that Millicent was deliberately asking her the question rather than anyone in particular.  “If that is your wish Miss Bulstrode,” she said pleasantly to the girl.  “Personally, I see absolutely nothing wrong with Hufflepuff House.” Nothing aside from the worry that her father might well kill her if she were sorted into that house of course, but no one needed to know that.

 

Millicent sputtered, “They are the House of the Rejects,” she informed her.

 

Lyra shook her head in disgust.  “No.  They are the House of the Loyal,” she informed Millicent.  “Hufflepuff’s value Loyalty, Hard-work, and Dedication,”  she pointed out.  “Just because Madam Helga Hufflepuff was willing to take in all that the other houses would not does not mean they are a bad house.  They have a sense of fair play and do not want to leave others out.”

 

“You should be a Hufflepuff then,” Millicent sneered at her.

 

“It would be an honor if I were to be sorted into Hufflepuff House,” she said easily.  After reading about the Hogwart’s four houses she had come to the conclusion that she would be content to be in any of the houses.  She knew though that she was most likely bound for Slytherin House.  Most of the Malfoy family had been sorted into Slytherin.  A few of the ladies whom had married into the family had been from other houses though, usually Ravenclaw House.  The Malfoy family valued both Power and Intelligence, and Slytherin’s were known for their power and Ravenclaw’s were known for their intellect.

 

At long last she heard Deputy Headmistress McGonagall call out, “Malfoy, Arya.”  She squeezed her sister’s hand and watched attentively as Arya walked up to the dais and sat on the stool.  The sorting hat was lowered onto her head and she watched as the hat attempted to sort her sister.  A few moments passed before the hat cried out, “RAVENCLAW!”

 

She clapped for her sister as the girl took the hat off of her head and went to join the table of blue and bronze. 

 

“Malfoy, Lyra,” Minerva McGonagall called out and then Lyra felt the slightly nervous feeling of butterflies fluttering in her stomach.  She stepped gracefully up to the dais and sat herself upon the stool.  The hat was placed over her head and she could only see darkness as it covered her eyes.

 

_‘Well, well, what’s this?  Another Malfoy?  How interesting.  I have not sorted twin Malfoy’s in at least four hundred years,’_   The voice said.

 

_‘I am happy to be of service, Monsieur,’_   Lyra thought in response.

 

_‘And such a polite and witty young Malfoy too,’_   The hat’s voice seemed to be amused.  _‘Hmm… where to place you?  You are loyal and you championed Hufflepuff House this night.’_

 

_‘How did you know?’_   she asked.

 

_‘It is here in your mind, my dear girl,_ ’ was his reply.  _‘Yet you are intelligent and Ravenclaw values one with your gifts.’_

 

The prospect of Ravenclaw House excited her.  Then she would not be parted from Arya.

 

_‘Ah yes.  You love your sister very much,’_   the hat said and again there was amusement to the tone of voice.  _‘Yet I think that Ravenclaw suits your sister more than it would suit you.  Hmm…you are brave.  You bravely sought to make friends with the boy you met in the shop.’_

 

His words made her think of her meeting with Harry on the train and she felt the sting of tears once more. 

 

_‘None of that now,’_ the hat chided, but his tone was kind. _‘He was not brave enough to look past your surname.  Do not give the boy another thought.  I think that Gryffindor would only stifle you in the end.  No.  In that case it better be..’_

 

“SLYTHERIN!”

 

_‘Thank you very much, Monsieur.  I will try to heed your good advice,’_   Lyra promised the hat, and then she removed it from her head and gently handed it back to Minerva McGonagall.  She arose from the stool and walked gracefully to the table of green and silver.  The students of that table had cheered wildly when she had been sorted into the house of snakes.

 

She watched the rest of the sorting, clapping politely as each child was sorted.  She watched as the hat sorted Harry Potter into Gryffindor House and she clapped for him.  She noticed that he glanced her way a few times throughout the sorting feast and she felt sad, but she remembered the words of the sorting hat and forced the sadness away.  His rejection had shattered some of her illusions.  She had been a fool to think that she would have a friend who did not care about her surname.  She was a Malfoy, there was no running away from that fact.

 

It was almost a relief when the Slytherin Prefects called them to order and lined them up to be escorted down to Slytherin’s Common Room, which was in the Dungeons of the Castle.  Theodore Nott came up to stand beside her and she graced him with a soft smile.  She had not often had the pleasure of visiting with Theodore, but he had come to the Manor a time or two when their father’s needed to discuss business.  He was a quiet and studious sort of boy.  She had him pegged for Ravenclaw much like Arya.

 

As they walked she leaned a bit closer to him to whisper her question “How did you convince the hat to put you into Slytherin?”

 

Theo stared at her for a few moments and she knew he was carefully weighing his words.  “The hat saw that it would not be safe for me at home where I sorted into any other house,” he admitted to her.

 

Lyra felt a surge of anger rush through her at the implication.  Theodore was saying his father would harm him due to what house he was sorted into.  The anger swiftly fled as she remembered her own thoughts from earlier.  Had she not thought that Lucius might do her harm for sorting into Hufflepuff House.  She gently tapped the back of his hand with two fingers.  “Better for us Slytherin’s then to have you,” she whispered to him.  “You would be bored with all of those Ravenclaw’s anyway.  You need variety.  We will provide it.”

 

Theodore looked amused by her statement but he did not comment further.

 

“Now watch yourself Firsties.  Dumbledore sees all within his Castle.  He sees all and hears all.  It is why he is so feared in the Wizarding World, “the Fifth Year Prefect warned them.

 

“That is impossible,” Lyra said loud enough to be heard by the Fifth Year Prefect.

 

He turned toward her and gave her a hard glare.  “Oh really, how do you know that firstie?” the Fifth Year asked.

 

“My father has repeatedly outwitted Albus Dumbledore and so did my grandfather before him.  If Dumbledore was as omniscient as you claim, then t’would have been impossible for him to be outmaneuvered by anyone,” Lyra reasoned.

 

“Yet how do you explain him knowing things going on within the halls of this school when he was nowhere near at hand?  Hmmm?” the Fifth Year Boy’s voice had turned nasty and scathing.

 

“The same way that most of our father’s know what we get up to in our own homes,” Lyra said to the boy and then she pointed over his head to a portrait of the great beauty Melusine.  The woman was preparing her bath but had not yet stepped into the tub.

 

She watched as heads turned to look at the portrait and then back to her again.  Confusion was the dominant expression on the faces of those around her.  She sighed softly in disappointment and resigned herself to explain it to them.  It was a relief when Theodore spoke up beside her.

 

“Oh, I see,” he said, and she smiled slightly believing that he did indeed see what she was alluding to.  “The Portraits report back to Dumbledore.  He controls the wards of the Castle and that would include having the allegiance of most of the animate magical objects within his domain such as the Magical Portraits.”

 

“That’s absolute preposter-" The Prefect began to call them names but was interrupted by the smooth dark drawl of the Head of Slytherin House.

 

“Well reasoned,” Severus Snape said as he came out of his place in the shadows.  “Ten points each to Slytherin House.”

 

Theodore gave a slight bow while Lyra dipped into a deep curtsy, “You are too kind, Master of Slytherin,” Lyra said in a slightly teasing tone.  Truly it had been too long since she had spent time with Severus.  She had last seen him at her Grandsire’s funeral and though that was really not so long ago, she had not really paid much attention to him that day.  There had been a horrible grief that lay upon her for some weeks after the death of Abraxas Malfoy.

 

The lips of Severus Snape twitched slightly.  It was as though he had wanted to smile but was not sure he knew how.  The other Slytherin’s stared at the exchange in bewilderment.  Their head of House was well respected of course, for he took care of them and stood up for them when the other Professor’s seemed prejudiced against them, but none of them would have ever called Severus Snape kind, even in jest.

 

“Farley, finish escorting these First Years into my house,” Severus ordered the prefects.

 

“Of course, Sir,” the female Fifth Year prefect spoke up.  “Alright come on you lot,” she ordered them.  “Please pay attention to your surroundings in the coming weeks.  The Slytherin dungeons go deep underground and are twisting and turning catacombs.”

 

“Wicked,” the voice of Gregory Goyle spoke enthusiastically.

 

Lyra could agree with the sentiment.  If she had to be underground, at least it seemed to be in a house that had made the most out of their space.  She doubted the other houses were truly aware of the amount of space that the Slytherin’s actually had all to themselves.

 

They at last came to a wall and she watched in bemusement as the male prefect whose name she vaguely recalled was Sykes, said the password “Pureblood” to a wall.  The wall began to part creating an opening in which the students could walk through.

 

The Slytherin Common room was dark but adorned with many lamps with green shades that lit off an eerie green light.  Rich tapestries that told stories of Slytherin’s long past graced the stone walls.  A blaze of warmth came from the fireplace and quite a number of the first years walked toward it in order to regain some warmth.

 

“Alright First Years,” Sykes began with a sneer.  “Welcome to Slytherin House.  “I am Fifth Year Prefect Alexander Sykes and this is the girls Fifth Year Prefect Gemma Farley,” the boy began without preamble. “Seated here,” he motioned to the sofa to the left of the fireplace “are the Sixth Year Prefects Cyril Meakin and Sylvia Melville.” 

 

Lyra swiftly looked over the Sixth Year Prefects.  Meakin was a handsome boy with dark brown hair and brown eyes.  He had the smooth aristocratic features that most ladies seemed to appreciate.  Melville was not exactly a beauty, but there was something striking about her features and she had very pretty blue eyes that even in the gloom of the Slytherin Common Room seemed to capture one’s attention.

 

“And to the right are our Seventh Year Prefects Edmund Spiers and Sadie Baldock,” Sykes introduced the pair that stood to the side of the group.  The blond haired Edmund Spiers was powerfully built and if Lyra had to guess she would say he played Quidditch in the position of a Beater.  Sadie Baldock reminded Lyra a bit of her Aunt Andromeda in her bearing as she stood beside Spiers, there seemed to be that similar mixture of pride and stubbornness that existed in both Andromeda and in Narcissa. 

 

“The first rule you need to understand is that for the first few weeks none of you will be allowed to wander this castle on your own.  In fact, a buddy-system shall be engaged for the entirety of your time in this school,” Sykes stated firmly.  This had some of the first years shifting uncomfortably.

 

Gemma Farley, the Fifth Year Girls Prefect took up the speech from there.  “We know it seems ridiculous to be told that you cannot go anywhere alone for the entire time you are in Hogwarts, but I assure you it is for a good reason,” she said.

 

Lyra frowned at that.  The only reasons she could deduce would be so there would be strength in numbers, yet that seemed wrong somehow.  It wasn’t enough of a reason for this edict.

 

“We are Slytherin’s,” Edmund Spiers spoke up, his deep voice capturing the attention of Lyra and the other first years.  “As such we are hated a persecuted by the entire school.  You will find that to the rest of the school’s inhabitants being a Slytherin means by vile, sneaky, and traitorous.  It will not matter that you are honest and dedicated to your studies. They will decide that you must have cheated to get so high a grade on your test.  They will believe you used your cunning in a nefarious way instead of better time management, better study rotations or practice rotations for Quidditch,” at this his jaw clenched and Lyra suddenly understood that the Slytherin Quidditch Team was probably often accused of cheating by the other houses.

 

“You will find that some Houses will treat you worse than others and you will also find some of the Professor’s to be biased against you because you were sorted into Slytherin,” Sadie Baldock informed them.  “The reason why you will not go anywhere alone unless strictly necessary is because Slytherin’s are so often accused of wrong doing.  If it is a lone Slytherin then it is their word against a throng of Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, or Ravenclaws.  You will find the Professor’s tend in those instances to just punish the lone Slytherin.  However, two Slytherins or more makes the matter more complicated to resolve the issue and so at the least both parties are punished,” she said.

 

“We know it is not ideal,” Spiers said after seeing the dismayed looks on the faces of the First Years.  “But it beats Slytherin alone being punished.”

 

Lyra clenched her fists and nodded her head in agreement with Spiers.  Yes, it really was better than only Slytherin’s being singled out.  In fact, she liked the cool logic behind the idea that since the other Houses would seek trouble against them that if the Slytherins had to go down then they would drag those other Houses with them. She had hoped that Hogwarts Professors would not be biased but it seemed that her hopes were yet again to be dashed today.  If the Slytherin Prefects were to be believed, then most if not all of the staff were biased against Slytherin students.  She had expected that the troubles she would see at Hogwarts would be due to being a Malfoy not due to being a Slytherin. She really could not resolve which she thought the more unjust.

 

She began to focus again when she heard the voice of her God-father, Severus Snape Potions Master and Head of Slytherin House begin to speak.  “I am sure by now you have received the hard facts that being sorted into Slytherin does not promise you an easy road ahead of you here at Hogwarts,” he began in his calm measured tone.  “To be a Slytherin you must be cunning, as the sorting hat said.  However, you must be more than that.  You must be fierce enough to overcome any obstacle and survive it.  Though it is regrettable how Hogwarts treats students from this great and illustrious House, we are Slytherins and we shall be triumphant in the end,” Severus said to them, and Lyra noted that it relaxed the tense atmosphere of the First Years.  “You will receive your time tables tomorrow morning after breakfast in the Great Hall.  Slytherin House will march down to the Hall at seven-thirty sharp.  Be ready! Friday evenings I shall be in the Common Room from seven to nine in the evening to assist any who are in need, whether it is with homework assignments or a more personal problem in which they need counsel.  Saturday Nights are tutoring nights for you First Years.  You will be assigned during the course of this week to a mentor who will assist you in learning more advanced spells in order to protect yourselves against the other students,” he sneered the last.  “This training is mandatory so do not presume to get out of it.  Last, but not the least is this rule,” he paused to look each of the children in the eye with Lyra being the last he looked upon.  “What goes on in Slytherin stays within the House.  Petty squabbles between you will not be aired in the halls of Hogwarts.  House Unity shall remain firm.  You will resolve your differences in the privacy of Slytherin's Sacred Halls.”

 

“Yes Professor Snape,” several of the First Years replied.  Lyra smiled slightly at her God-father as she nodded her head in agreement.

 

“Very well.  I shall see you all in the morning,” Severus stated, and began to turn away.  Yet before he got far he called out, “Miss Malfoy, a moment of your time.”

 

Lyra moved away from her fellow First Years and obeyed his command.  When she was beside him he turned to look at her and put a hand gently upon her upper arm.  “Your eyes were tear-bright when you came into the Great Hall,” Severus said softly.  His voice was no nonsense, gruff, but there was a tenderness in his eyes that belied his tone.  It made Lyra smile at him despite the fact that she really did not want to think about why she had cried.

 

She paused to collect her thoughts.  She did not want to talk about this and yet she knew her God-father well enough to know that he would not let it pass.  “I met a boy at Madam Malkin’s robe shop.  I thought him a Muggleborn or a Half-blood that had been Muggle raised.  He didn’t know anything about our world.  He seemed a bit nervous really, so I tried to make him feel more comfortable.  We talked and laughed and he seemed nice.  Before I left the shop I asked him if I could sit with him on the train,” she bit her lip then and paused trying to think of how to tell him of what had happened on the train.

 

“Did he refuse you?” Severus asked.

 

She shook her head in the negative.  “He said yes.  I found him on the train and he was seated with the Weasley boy.  Well I introduced myself properly, I had forgotten to do so at Madam Malkin’s.” She blushed and murmured, “I’m rather used to everyone knowing automatically that I am a Malfoy.  He had not known I was a Malfoy though and when I told him my name, his whole demeanor changed.  He was no longer the slightest bit welcoming and he, he turned his head away from me to stare out the window as though I did not matter at all.  Then his Weasley friend began to say horrible things about Father and he made nasty insinuations about Mother,” Lyra felt the sting in her eyes and hated it.  She hated that the words of those two boys still affected her.  She wished she was made of sterner stuff so it would never affect her at all.  What should she care of the ravings of mean little boys?

 

Severus’ jaw clenched.  “What happened next, Lyra?” he asked in a tone that demanded compliance to his will.  There was no doubt that any who heard that tone would obey him.

 

Lyra was no exception.  “I left before I shamed myself,” Lyra admitted.  “I felt as though I was going to cry and I did not think I could hold in the tears much longer.  It, it was so wrong.  So unfair that I should make a friend only to so swiftly lose them because I am a Malfoy,” she whispered.  “And what right did the Weasley boy have to say such things about my parents?”

 

“Who was the boy, Lyra, the one you met at the shop?” he demanded to know and it was only then that Lyra realized that in the recitation of her story that she had failed to reveal that bit of knowledge.

 

“Harry Potter,” she said simply.

 

She watched in fascination as her God-father’s jaw clenched and his frame seemed to vibrate with anger.  She felt the swirl of his magic surrounding her.  It was violent, fierce, yet soothing and protective.  He was angry on her behalf but not angry with her.  She reached out and placed her hand over the top of his clenched fist.  “I, I suppose I am glad it turned out this way, though it still hurts,” she told Severus.  His obsidian eyes stared deep into hers for a moment and her lips curved into a gentle smile.  “Better that I know early on what sort he is, than lament the knife wound to the back later.”

 

She was a Malfoy, a female one at that and the first ever to one day be the Head of the Malfoy Family.  Due to her gender she would be perceived as weak and vulnerable by the men around her. She would need strong friends and allies in the future, and from what she had now seen of Harry Potter, she doubted he could stand by her.  If he could judge her by her surname instead of by who she was as a person, then she would rather have no place in his world and he have no place in hers.  She was sure she would eventually get over the heartache of her failed attempt to make her first real friend.  She really hoped so.

 

“Yes Lyra,” Severus said after a few moments of studying her face.  “You are better off without his sort. Do not think on the Potter brat and the Weasley brat anymore.”  He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed it for a moment before he turned away.  “Goodnight Lyra,” he said gently and then called out, “Miss Farley, show Miss Malfoy to her dorm room.”

 

“Right away Professor Snape,” Farley answered in a cheerful voice.  “Come along young Miss Malfoy,” Farley said as she steered Lyra to a corridor to the left of the Common room.  They went down a long set of stone stairs.  In some cases, the stair ways splintered off into other floors and Lyra studied these curiously.  “Both the House and the rest of the dungeons are really a series of intricate catacombs.  I think only Professor Snape really knows the whole of our domain,” Farley admitted.  “That hall there leads to the Fifth Year Dormitories,” She made it a point to tell Lyra.  “So if you or the other girls in your dorm need anything you can find me there.”

 

Lyra smiled at her.  “Thank you.  That is most appreciated,” she said.

 

“So, how well do you know Professor Snape?” Farley asked her.

 

Lyra glanced at her out of the corner of her eye as they walked deeper down into the dungeons.  “Fairly well.  He’s my god-father,” Lyra said simply.

 

“No kidding?” Farley asked and when Lyra made it clear she was serious the older girl smirked.  “Well that might come in handy.  I guess what they say about Malfoy’s staying well connected is true,” Farley said as they came to a cross section.  “To the left is the hall for the third year girls and to the left is the hall for the fourth year girls.  Now is the funny part.  We did all that walking going deeper into the dungeons but now we go up these stairs,” Farley told her and then led Lyra up a set of stairs that looked less like stone and more like quartz to Lyra’s eyes. 

 

She followed Farley up the stairs until they came to another split in the wall.  “Through his door is the Hall for the second year girls.  And just up ahead is for the first year girls.  It is said that Salazar set it up this way on purpose.  The older kids are closer to the Common Room but the younger years are hidden deeper within the catacombs.  This way if the Common Room was ever under attack the older years could defend it while sending a few of their number back to keep the children safe.”

 

“That makes sense to me.  You would want the most vulnerable to have adequate protection,” Lyra said.  “Sort of like how Professor Snape wants the First Years to learn protective spells from the older year students.”

 

Farley laughed.  “You are pretty astute aren’t you?  That is exactly right.  You know I have actually heard that in Gryffindor Tower they put the younger years hall first on their stairs leading up.  Pathetic.  If they were ever attacked the first years would be wiped out.”

 

She frowned at that.  “From what I read of the Four Founders, Gryffindor seemed a bit arrogant to me.  I think he was the cocky sort who thought that no harm would ever come to the children in the Castle.”

 

Farley nodded her agreement and then smiled.  “Here we are,” she announced with a flourish. “Have sweet dreams our Princess of Slytherin.”

 

Lyra frowned at the phrase “Princess?” she asked of Farley.

 

“Well, Malfoy’s have a long and proud history of being the Leaders of Slytherin House.  They are the Princes of Slytherin.  Since you are a girl I thought Princess would suffice.” Farley explained.

 

Lyra’s brow furrowed in thought as she took in what Farley had said.  “Tell the others that I prefer the ancient term of Prince to Princess,” she ordered Farley. “And, we shall leave the other Houses guessing as to who rules Slytherin House.”

 

Farley laughed aloud at that.  “As you will it, Highness.”

 

With that Farley left her standing outside the door of the Slytherin Girls Dormitory.  Lyra watched her go and then braced herself before she entered the dormitory.  She needn’t have worried.  She knew the other girls who had been sorted into Slytherin.  Daphne Greengrass and Pansy Parkinson were childhood playmates of hers.  She was also well acquainted with Millicent Bulstrode.  She was swiftly introduced to the one roommate that she did not know.  The girl was a half-blood named Tracey Davis.  She seemed a nice enough girl and as Lyra remembered it she was a cousin of Daphne’s.

 

“We chose your bed for you,” fellow Heiress Pansy Parkinson declared.  Pansy was an only child and the future Head of the Parkinson family.  It was due to their similar positions in life that she had Pansy had become friends in the first place.  They would always be able to understand each other.

 

Lyra arched a brow at that.  “Oh really?  And if I object?”

 

“We won’t listen,” Millicent Bulstrode immediately responded from her position at the bed nearest to the doorway.  “We chose based on how best to protect you from harm.”

 

Her gray eyes widened at that.  “From harm? You think someone will harm me? Here?” Lyra asked of them.

 

Daphne sighed.  “It is not like you to be so obtuse.”

 

“I think she’s doing it on purpose,” Pansy muttered then sighed.  “Look Lyra, you are the Prince of Slytherin, but you are a female and a first year at that.  Some of the older year Slytherin’s are going to get fussy about being bossed around by an eleven-year-old.”

 

Pansy wasn’t really revealing new news to Lyra, but with the disappointment of Harry’s rejection she had really not let herself think about the fact that with her sorting into Slytherin she was effectively the ruler of the House, aside from Severus of course.  Then again, her father had ruled Slytherin and gone against his own Head of House.  Horace Slughorn had been her father’s head of House and from the tales that she had heard from her parents and Severus, he had been a horrible Head of Slytherin.  His Snakes were not the least bit protected by him during the end of his tenure.  He was a man who sought celebrities. Disgusting!

 

“Very well.  Well done,” she praised them even as she went to her four poster bed.  It was quite eerie looking at the wall across from her bed. They were under the Castle and the wall was made of a sort of Quartz glass.  It distorted the view of the lake slightly giving them the illusion of privacy while still giving them a view of the under water depths of the Black Lake.

 

She began to slowly unpack along with the other girls and she let herself begin to relax a little bit.  She was tired and her eyes still hurt from crying earlier that day.  She was only too happy to put on her pajamas, brush her teeth and her hair, and then crawl into her bed.

 

A round of “Goodnights” were murmured by each of the girls to each other and then Millicent went around the room tending to the candle lights.  Even so they were not left in complete darkness. Soft green glowing witch lights were embedded in the walls of the room.  They were quite dim so they did not disturb a sleeper but they could help one see in the dark.  Though their beds had privacy curtains none of the girls chose to close themselves off that first night at Hogwarts, deep under the lake. 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, Lyra begins classes at Hogwarts.


	3. First Year

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyra is disappointed by some of the realities of life at Hogwarts during her First Year

First Year

 

Her first year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry was a bitter disappointment to Lyra.  While she had found easy comradery with her fellow Slytherin’s, it had been hard to make friends outside of Slytherin House.  She had managed to make a few friends in Ravenclaw, widely due to the fact that her sister Arya had sorted into the House of Knowledge.  She had also made friends with Susan Bones of Hufflepuff House, but that was sadly the extent of her friendships outside of Slytherin.  None of the Gryffindor students had been willing to give her a chance.  Either her sorted House or her Surname always stood against her with the proud Lions of Gryffindor.  They did not seem to be particularly brave in her opinion.

 

The majority of the Professor’s had proven to be biased in one way or another.  Some seemed to favor their own House above all other students.  Other’s seemed to hover over the Muggle-raised students; coddling them and holding their hand as they walked them along through the steps of learning how to harness their magic.  Lyra had taken it upon herself to ensure that Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle were tutored within Slytherin House by some of the upper year Snakes so that they would be able to learn the material.  The two boys had never benefitted from tutors before they set foot in Hogwarts and due to that they were in the same boat that the Muggle-raised students were in, not that any of the other Professor’s bothered to care.  Lyra had swiftly noted how quickly the Professor’s had written the two boys off as dunces.  She had actually heard Professor Babbling say to a complaining Professor McGonagall that it must be the inbreeding.

 

Lyra’s blood had boiled at that moment.  It was common enough to say that the Pure-blood families were inbred, but whether that was true of all of the families was up for debate.  She had suffered such insults from Ronald Weasley during the year but she had refused to retaliate against him.  She knew that it would be she, and not he, that would have ended up with the detention.  He was making himself look bad and giving himself a horrible reputation by singling her out for his abuses.  It would be different if she were a male, but she was of the fairer gender and so he looked like a horrible bully who kept on attempting to hurt the girl who would not retaliate against him.  Well, she didn’t retaliate in the way he could recognize.  Both Blaise Zabini and Theodore Nott had become her champions.  They took great delight in doing random things to humiliate Ron Weasley, especially after he had been particularly horrible to her. 

 

The Malfoy’s had been careful to not allow inbreeding in their line.  They had taken the tale of the Ravenscar family quite seriously.  In the old legends the Ravenscars were quite powerful but their family fell into great decline due to the inbreeding of their line.  With each generation they produced weaker and weaker wizards.  Once they had even had Dragonriders in their line, if the legends could be believed, but the Ravenscar’s dwindled in power due to their mistakes.  Now the Spinks family was the only Wizarding family that could claim any descent to the Ravenscars.  Then there was the tale of the Gaunt’s, proud descendants of Salazar Slytherin.  Their inbreeding resulted in a loss of power and prestige.  The Malfoy’s were careful to do all they could to keep their own power and prestige so they were very careful in whom they chose to wed and breed with, thank you very much.

 

The true bane of her first year was Harry Potter.  While Ronald Weasley was always the instigator of all altercations between them, Harry Potter was always at Ron’s side backing up his friend.  He had sneered at her, calling her father a Death Eater.  Well how was she to argue with that?  She had seen the mark upon her father’s arm.  Still, he was her father. Hers!  These two boys didn’t know a thing about him.  That they were joined by Hermione Granger, a Muggle-born Witch that Lyra had thought was intelligent just added to the trouble.  Since Hermione was a Muggle-born, it was only natural that the bushy haired brunette would automatically dislike any Death Eaters.  Lyra could admit to herself now that she had been truly unusually optimistic when she had allowed herself to hope that Granger would not judge her or any of the other children by the fact that their parents were Death Eaters.  Granger had proven to be nearly as prejudiced as Weasley and at times more informed.  Granger enjoyed learning and so she had immersed herself in reading about some of the Death Eater Trials, what little could be found in the Hogwart’s Library anyway.  The girl usually stood by Harry and Ron’s side staying out of the arguments that Ron started, but she did occasionally come in on his side with facts about this or that battle or attack that a Death Eater had been accused of.  She was particularly fond of pointing out to Pansy Parkinson the accusations that the court had put forth against her father.  Pansy despised Granger for that and because the other girl was an annoying know it all.  Pansy had started the feud between herself and Hermione Granger by calling the Gryffindor girl a “Mud-blood.”  Lyra thought that if Pansy was going to be that uncouth then she deserved the other girl’s ire, but that didn’t mean that Granger had to single out the other Slytherin girls as well.  Lyra had been on the bad side of the bushy haired Gryffindor ever since the girl had learned of the crimes of which Lucius Malfoy had been accused of.  Harry’s friendship with Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger hurt her.  That he parroted what those two had to say about her wounded her deeply.  She was angry that he got to her at all, that her eyes still sought him out in classes, that she enjoyed watching him fly during Quidditch games and the Gryffindor’s practices.  She hated that she had failed in forgetting all about the green-eyed boy.

 

The ultimate insult had come from Albus Dumbledore though.  Slytherin had won the House Cup.  They were celebrating their victory at the Leaving Feast when the Headmaster chose to award points to Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ronald Weasley, and Neville Longbottom for reasons that were not properly revealed to the rest of the student body.  The end result was that Gryffindor was now in the lead and the winners.  Lyra had felt betrayed by the Headmaster and had watched him dispassionately as he clapped happily and smiled at Harry Potter.

 

The Slytherins took to calling Potter “Dumbledore’s Golden Boy” and “Golden Boy Potter.”  She secretly thought of him as Dumbledore’s Pet but she did not say it aloud to the other Slytherin’s. 

 

Now she sat on the Hogwart’s Express, heading back to London.  She sat in a dining car compartment that most of the Slytherins had long ago claimed as their territory so they could protect themselves from the other students, particularly Gryffindor’s.

 

“I think we are in agreement once and for all that Dumbledore is a lost cause for us.”  Theodore spoke softly to the group at large.

 

There were several nods of agreement to that statement.  “I didn’t have much faith in the Old Coot in the first place,” Pansy Parkinson said then she frowned.  “But it still hurts to know that he won’t at the least try to be fair.”

 

“I think the scary thing is that Dumbledore did seem to think he was being perfectly fair,” Lyra said.  “He really did think giving those points last minute was the right thing to do.”

 

“We all know that Potter ended up in the Hospital Wing and there were rumors of some Death Eater attack in the school,” Gregory Goyle mentioned.

 

Blaise Zabini snorted.  “Yes, wasn’t that just lovely.  Gryffindor’s were right prats before that.  They were completely impossible after they thought their little Hero was attacked by one of us.”

 

“Right, but I am saying whatever happened to Potter was weeks ago so why did the Headmaster wait so long to give out those points?” Goyle asked.

 

Lyra saw where he was headed and nodded to him.  “Because he knew that waiting until the feast would ensure that we could do absolutely nothing to catch up the points.”

 

“You know, my father was never a Death Eater, no one in my family was.  We have a long history of neutrality in Wizarding Wars,” Daphne Greengrass stated.  “Yet, my father has told me stories of Dumbledore from his school days.  He has often theorized that a great many of his fellow classmates went on to become Death Eaters due to Dumbledore’s refusal to believe that goodness could be found in the House of Snakes.”

 

There was silence for a long time after that.  It was Tracey Davis who broke it.  “Does this mean that will be our fate too?  Destined for Slytherin, destined to be mistreated by our peers and our elders, destined to become Death Eaters?”

 

Everyone remained silent for a few minutes mulling over her words.  Lyra mulled over the bitterness in Tracey’s tone.  It matched the bitterness that had been growing inside of Lyra.  She was a Malfoy and she was a Slytherin, even if someone would look past the first, and she had yet to meet that miraculous person, they would never look past the other.  Dumbledore was the Headmaster.  He should not be playing favorites.  He should not be playing half of the games that he was playing.

 

“No,” she said softly.  “We will just have to change our stars.”  Lyra liked that phrase, enjoyed the way it sounded.  Andromeda had told her that was what she had done when she had defied the family and married her beloved Ted Tonks.

 

“Change our stars?” Theodore asked, but his tone sounded as though he too enjoyed the phrase.

 

“Our parents’ generation were caught between two great powers.  Dumbledore and the Dark Lord,” Lyra explained.  She paused a moment to collect her thoughts and then looked at Blaise and then to Theo.  “Both men were using the Wizards and Witches around them, maneuvering them like pieces on a game board.  Dumbledore knew that the Dark Lord had an advantage in Slytherin, but instead of attempting to help save any of those children, he wrote them off as expendable.  Instead he focused on the Gryffindor’s.  Being a Gryffindor himself he knew just what to do to guide them and maneuver them into fighting against the Dark Lord.  He neglected Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw in favor of Gryffindor.”

 

“And so the Slytherin’s were doomed,” Arya muttered from her place beside Theodore.  “And how is that any different than the future we might be headed toward.  You heard the rumors.  A Death Eater attacked Potter.”

 

“Is it a Death Eater wanting to rise up and become a new Dark Lord, a successor to Lord Voldemort?” Millicent Bulstrode asked with a frown.

 

“We don’t have enough data to prove anything.  Look if a real Death Eater had attacked Potter it would be all over the Papers.  Instead we have these facts, Potter was attacked when he was in a part of the Castle that all of us had been warned to stay away from and our Defense Professor went missing,” Aleksei Spinks argued.

 

Theo leaned back in his seat and a small crease was at his brow, a sign that Lyra had learned meant that he was busy thinking over the puzzle before them.

 

“Lord Voldemort was defeated by Harry Potter in 1981,” Theo murmured in that tone that said he was still deep in his ponderings.  “Defeated, not killed.”

 

“Not killed?” Vincent Crabbe squeaked.

 

“Not killed,” Lyra agreed with Theo’s assessment.  It made sense to her.  “Potter didn’t kill him, if he had there would have been a body but there was never a body.  Theo you are brilliant!”

 

A flush came to Theo’s cheeks due to the praise but he showed no other sign that she had affected him.  “So Potter was somehow accosted by the Dark Lord and the Dark Lord escaped and Potter was briefly hospitalized in the infirmary.”

 

“He’s trying to regain power then,” Arya whispered in horror.  Her hand flew up to her mouth and she leaned closer to Theodore unconsciously for comfort. 

 

“And Dumbledore knows.  He has probably always suspected that the Dark Lord was not dead,” Blaise said.

 

“So we should what? Begin training to become the Dark Lord’s next generation of acolytes?” Pansy asked bitterly.

 

Lyra smacked her palm down hard on the table jarring everyone out of thoughts of self-pity and forcing them to pay attention to her.  “Never!  We are not going to serve that monster,” she declared.  “We are going to need to train though.  We have an advantage right now.  Dumbledore does not know that we know of the Dark Lord’s return and he will continue to cultivate his Gryffindor’s for war and ignore the Slytherin’s.  He’ll no doubt neglect us for a few more years at least.  At best he’ll look to the seventh year Slytherin’s and not to us lower years.  Most of the Professor’s ignore us.  As annoying as that is, it is now to our benefit.”

 

“We cannot trust the Professor’s,” Daphne murmured.  “Not even our Head of House.”

 

Lyra and Arya opened their mouths to protest but Daphne held up a hand and with pleading eyes began to speak, “I mean no disrespect to Professor Snape.  I only mean that we cannot trust him with this because it could put him in a terrible position with Dumbledore.”

 

Arya nodded her understanding and Lyra huffed but acknowledged that Daphne had a good point.  Lyra never wanted to put her beloved god-father in a bad position.  Dumbledore was dangerous.  If Severus was not so talented, and therefore so useful, she was sure that Dumbledore would have abandoned Severus long ago.

 

“I concede,” Lyra agreed.  “We cannot let Professor Snape know our intentions.  To this end, every one of you must begin learning Occlumency this summer.  If you already have some training in this art, then I want you to continue your studies.  Our dear Head of House has some talent with Legilimency.”

 

“No kidding?” Crabbe groaned.  “No wonder I could not seem to convince him that Weasley was the one who put the sage into Lavender Brown’s cauldron.”

 

There were a few chuckles then.  It had turned Lavender’s potion to a horrible sludge that was similar to tar, but it had not blown up the cauldron.  As far as pranks went, it was a fairly light one.

 

Tracey Davis, their resident Half-blood, took out a Muggle Notebook from her book bag.  She then took out a self-inking quill.  “Right, so let’s write this down and we can keep each other up to date on our successes over the hols.”

 

Tracey then jotted down notes as each of them came up with a suggestion of how to improve themselves.

 



  1. Train in the mental arts, particularly Occlumency.
  2. Go over all that they had learned in their First Year and study and practice it until they were sure they had full mastery over everything taught in the First Year curriculum.  Also avail themselves of books in their parent’s libraries, but be careful not to push too hard too fast.
  3. Physical Training.  Jogging, running, stretches, acrobatics and other various exercises to help train their bodies for combat.



 

The Mental Arts involved many fields but the children had chosen for now to focus on Occlumency since it would not only protect their minds, helping them to keep each other’s secrets, but it would also give them a stronger mental discipline.  It was the hope of all that they would be able to learn Legilimency after they mastered Occlumency.

 

There were plenty of Dark Arts books that were in the libraries of most of the children and it was swiftly agreed that those books should not be touched just yet.  Bellatrix Lestrange had once been a witch brimming with potential, only to become interested in the Dark Arts and immersed herself too soon, too fast without someone to act as a tether to help bring her back.  It was no wonder the woman was deemed insane by most before she was even put away for life in Azkaban Prison.  None of them wanted to end up like Bellatrix Lestrange.

 

There were many great theorists out there who believed that a stronger and healthier body would assist with the growth of power in one’s magical core.  Regardless of whether or not this was true, the group was going to need to be fit in order to fight.  They would have a two front battle on their hands.  The Dark Lord Voldemort was their enemy, but so too was the Light Side who would forsake them.  They had to learn how to save themselves, they were on their own.

 

By the time that the scarlet train came to a stop in London, Lyra and her Slytherin friends had figured out how they would go about their individual training and had worked out how they would be able to get together for visits in which they would hopefully be able to learn how to work together in teams.

 

It was when Lyra got her school trunk and began moving down the hall, deep in thought that she realized that she should talk to Dora about her plans.  Nymphadora had just graduated from Hogwarts and was accepted to the Auror Training Program.  Surely cousin Dora would have some good ideas that could help them, and even if she did not now, the older girl would once she was in training.  Lyra smiled as she moved down the hall glad that she had thought of talking things over with Dora.  Too bad she didn’t yet know when she would see Dora again.  She would have to write to her.

 

She felt the spell coming at her and immediately raised her shield just in time to stop the stinging hex from hitting her.  She whirled around to find Ronald Weasley glaring at her with Hermione Granger and Harry Potter right behind him.  She sighed in sadness then.  Why was the red-haired boy so mean to her?

 

“Malfoy,” he spat her name out like it was the vilest thing to call a person.  In his mind it probably was.

 

‘Oh right, this is why he’s so mean to me.’  She thought as she stared at him.  “Mr. Weasley, please leave me alone.  I have told you more than once during this past year that I am singularly uninterested in the Feud of our ancestors.  I am not saying we have to be friends, to be perfectly frank your behavior toward me has been so despicable that I could not imagine being your friend, but this does not mean that we need to be enemies.  We are students who attend the same school, nothing more.”

 

Ron sputtered at her, “You, you are not just any student,” he managed to snarl at her.  “You are a Malfoy,” again he sneered her name.

 

“Yes, and you are a Weasley,” she responded as calmly as she could.  “I fail to see what that has to do with much of anything,” she said simply.

 

She felt Potter’s green eyes upon her, watching her curiously but she refused to turn her own gray eyed gaze upon him.  She didn’t trust Weasley enough to take her eyes off of him.

 

“I know that you’re just a Death Eater waiting to happen,” Ron said, his voice full of self-righteous anger.

 

She took a single step toward him and said softly.  “So it is true then, you did fight against Voldemort.”  It was a statement of fact and she found her suspicions confirmed when she saw Granger flinch and Potter pale slightly. 

 

“That’s none of your business,” Weasley hissed at her, his hand tightening around his wand.

 

Lyra silently disagreed.  It was very much her business; it was everyone’s business if the Dark Lord was back.  Never-the-less she had no intention of sticking around to argue that point with Dumbledore’s Pet and his merry side-kicks.  “I suggest physical training this summer and plenty of review.  Review all of your studies from this past year.  You have survived him twice Potter by ancient magic alone, but the Dark Lord will likely look for ways around that now.  You cannot rely on it forever.”

 

They were silent for a few moments, clearly shocked by her suggestions and Lyra smiled sadly before turning her back on the trio to continue on her way.  It was Harry’s voice that called out to her and made her pause.

 

“Malfoy,” he stared at her for a few moments after she had turned back to stare at him.  “Do you know what happened?  Do you know how I defeated him the first time?”

 

She frowned then.  She didn’t know, not for certain anyway, but she had a very good guess.  “I was not there, and even if I had been I was an infant too Potter,” she reminded him and she thought that would be the end of it.  It would have been if the questions were coming from Weasley, but she had underestimated Harry Potter.

 

“But you have a guess,” Harry said and it was not a question.  There was conviction in his voice.

 

“Who cares if she does?” Weasley complained trying to steer Harry away from pursuing the conversation further.

 

Harry’s green eyes narrowed at Ronald Weasley and he said in clipped tones “I care.”

 

Granger nodded her head in encouragement.  “It cannot hurt to hear what she thinks.  She might have some good insight.”

 

“Please, tell me your guess,” Harry Potter asked her and she found herself unable to resist the plea in his voice.

 

“It was blood sacrifice.  A life for a life.  Ancient magic that mothers and fathers use to be willing to perform back in the days when Muggles were trying to burn us at the stake and when Light Witches were turning on Dark Witches.  Your parents were in hiding in order to protect you, they knew that Voldemort might come for them someday.  They loved you so they would want to protect you, their baby.  My guess is it was a last resort to ensure that you would be protected and live.  That Voldemort murdered your father and then your mother personally before killing you might very well have made the protection magic even more powerful,” she explained.  “Of course, this is my pure speculation.  I don’t really think that you’ll ever truly know what happened that night.”

 

He stared at her for several moments, his green eyes locked with her gray eyes as though searching her for the truth.  What he found, she had no idea but he slowly nodded his head in acceptance of what she said.  “Thank you.  What you told me about a protection, that is similar to what the Headmaster said, though he was vaguer about it.”

 

She nodded her head in acceptance of his thanks.  It was odd to not be at odds with him at the moment.  It was only a moment though, she reminded herself.  Harry Potter was an enemy.  He was Dumbledore’s Pet that Dumbledore intended to be groomed into Dumbledore’s Weapon. That weapon would be used against Voldemort and his Death Eaters.  Then Dumbledore would aim that weapon at Lyra and her Slytherin friends and any allies they gained. 

 

“This doesn’t make us friends,” Potter said after a moment, seeming to come back to himself and realize that he was talking to Lyra Malfoy, oldest daughter of Death Eater Lucius Malfoy.

 

She nodded at that.  “No, it doesn’t make us friends.  We aren’t friends, Potter,” she assured him in a tone that was emphatic on that point.  She noticed that Granger was looking back and forth between them with suspicion in her eyes.  Granger was beginning to realize that there was something between Lyra and Potter that she had not known about before.  She wished Potter well of Granger’s nagging.  She had heard enough of the girl over the year to realize that she was like Pansy when she wanted to know a secret.  She would be merciless in finding ways to pry the information from Potter.

 

Potter took a step toward her even as she turned away from him.  There was nothing more to say.  The conversation was one that should not have delayed her in the first place.  She added a mental note to her summer agenda to try to come up with ways to become immune to Harry Potter.  She did not want to spend the next school year with her eyes seeking him out in the Great Hall and in Classes.

 

She heard her name called out excitedly by her younger sister, Satyra, when she exited the Hogwart’s Express.  Her lips curved up into a genuine smile as the younger girl rushed forward to give her a hug.  Andromeda and Narcissa stood talking together with Nymphadora and Arya.  It seemed that Lucius must be too busy to come retrieve his daughters from their first year at school.  She was not unhappy with his absence since it allowed Satyra the freedom to rush to her and throw her arms around Lyra in a fierce hug.

 

“I missed you!” Satyra exclaimed.

 

Lyra released her hold on her school trunk in order to wrap her arms around her baby sister.  “I missed you too,” she told the younger girl.

 

Satyra grabbed up the handle on the trunk and Lyra grabbed the other handle as they made their way toward their mother, sister, cousin, and aunt.  “Tell me all about Hogwarts and don’t leave a single thing out,” Satyra ordered.

 

Lyra laughed and promised her sister that they would talk all about Hogwart’s as soon as they were settled in back at home.  A few moments after they joined their family, Narcissa guided her daughters toward the barrier into the Muggle World.  Narcissa informed her daughters that Andromeda and Narcissa were taking Nymphadora, Lyra, Arya, and Satyra out for dinner in Muggle London.

 

Lyra smiled Narcissa shrunk the school trunks and then the girls were led along outside to the sleek black car that Narcissa preferred for when they made shopping trips into Muggle areas.  She climbed into the back of the car and nestled in beside Nymphadora. 

   


	4. Encounters In Diagon Alley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lyra and her sisters encounter a few friends and a few enemies in Diagon Alley.

Encounters in Diagon Alley

 

Diagon Alley, Wizarding London, England

August 1, 1992

 

Lyra glanced around the pristinely clean interior of Florian Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlor and allowed herself a moment to center herself.  The hustle and bustle of Diagon Alley had felt stifling to her after a summer of being mostly alone, with the exception of her siblings, her mother, her aunt, and her cousin.  Dora had not visited as often as Lyra would have liked, but she knew she could not really expect Dora to cater to her as much as she had in the past.  Dora had spent the first month of summer hanging out with her friends and family before heading away to Auror Training on the Isle of Mann. 

 

“Satyra, just pick one,” Arya’s voice brought Lyra back into focus and she turned her gaze back to her twin sister and their younger sister.  Satyra had been quite excited about their outing to Diagon Alley today.  She would be starting Hogwart’s as a First Year and she was determined that she would be sorted into Slytherin.  Satyra had spent all of the previous year listening to the complaints and mutterings of their father who had been unhappy that Arya had sorted into Ravenclaw.  Satyra had declared that like a true daughter of the House of Malfoy she would go into Slytherin.  The summer had strained Arya’s patience in dealing with Satyra, which was a pity since she always gave Satyra more patient care than Lyra could.

 

Lyra didn’t bother to give Satyra time to bicker with Arya.  Such behavior would be unseemly.  Their mother and father would never trust them alone in any of the shops ever again if she didn’t stop them before it was too late.  She moved forward to the counter, forming a wall between her sisters, and glanced at the pictures of ice cream before her.  “I would like a bowl of chocolate ice cream please sir, my sister Arya,” she paused to indicate Arya at her right hand side, “would like a bowl of Chocolate Chip ice cream drizzled lightly with chocolate syrup.  My sister Satyra,” she indicated her youngest sibling on her left hand side, “would just love a scoop of strawberry and a scoop of vanilla ice cream.”

 

The man behind the counter smiled at her.  “Of course, right away Mistress Malfoy,” then the man turned away and began to take care of their orders.

 

“Lyra, I’m sorry,” Arya whispered with shame in her voice.

 

Lyra gave her a curt nod and then said, “I will await our order.  Go with Satyra to pick a table outside where we can eat our treat.”

 

Her twin sister nodded and then took a hold of Satyra’s hand.  Satyra looked mutinous as though she would protest until she met Lyra’s gaze, and the protest died before it made it to her lips.  Lyra was relieved to watch her sister’s walk away.  She hoped that Satyra’s behavior was not indicative of how the day was going to go.  She was bringing the worst out of Arya, and Lyra could not stand for both of her sisters to be acting like brats, especially in public.  She was hyperaware here of the fact that she was expected to act like a perfect lady, even at twelve.  Here, amongst so many of the Wizarding Worlds Shopping Witches and Wizards, where one slip up could damage the Malfoy reputation.

 

They were shopping without mother today, and that was another reason for Satyra’s behavior.  She always acted the proud arrogant brat more often when they were alone with Lucius than when they were with Narcissa.  Lucius had ordered them to go to the Ice Cream parlor and await his presence while he took care of some business.  Then he had imperiously strolled down Diagon Alley and into Knockturn Alley.  Lyra had watched him do it and had been amazed that many witches and wizards had not seen him.  She was sure it must be a charm he placed on himself to make others unaware of his presence turning into the street that was known for its nefarious places of business. 

 

Knockturn Alley had shops that sold counterfeit goods, dark arts materials, and the like.  It had gambling dens.  It had bars that sold strange potions and cocktails that, while not quite illegal, were probably borderline illegal and would surely be illegal if the Ministry truly looked into.  The irony is that many Auror’s enjoyed going there in their offtime, and so those places were safe from intense scrutiny.  Of course there was Arya and Lyra’s favorite book store, Miranda’s Tomes of Ancient Antiquities.  The store was far better than Flourish & Blotts, if one wanted to read ancient magical books.  Knockturn Alley also had the best sweets shop in all of Wizarding Britain.  Some of the sweets names would probably make the Muggle-raised students run for the hills.  “Chocolate Covered Gremlin Hearts” just did not seem to appeal to the Muggle-raised for some reason.

 

“Here you are Mistress Malfoy,” the man behind the counter said as he offered her a tray for her to carry that held her orders. 

 

“What?  You intend for Mistress Malfoy to carry that on her own?” came a voice that she recognized quite well.

 

She turned to smile at her new companion.  “Mr. Zabini, it is good to see you,” and it really was.  Though she had exchanged letters with Blaise over the summer, they had not visited one another.  He had been abroad in Italy for the summer visiting his father’s relatives.  She had thought he would be gone until a few days before term started.

 

Blaise bowed elegantly to her, “And you, Mistress Malfoy, but please let me carry this tray for you.”

 

Lyra eyed him speculatively for a moment before nodding in gratitude, “If it will not inconvenience you too much.”

 

“Not at all,” he assured her as he took the tray from the man behind the counter who was smiling at his display of old world manners. 

 

“It is refreshing to see that chivalry has not died,” the man said to Blaise.  “It seems that young men have no real manners anymore these days.  It does my heart good to see that there are some who still practice the old ways.”

 

Lyra blinked in surprise but she then smiled at the man, “Thank you Sir.”

 

Blaise likewise exchanged a final pleasantry with the man and then he followed Lyra out into the sunshine and toward the table that harbored her siblings.  Satyra was glaring mutinously at Arya until she noticed Lyra walking toward them with a handsome boy behind her.  “Satyra this is Mr. Blaise Zabini.  He is a member of Slytherin House and is one of my companions at school.  And of course Arya you remember Blaise,” she finished the introduction.

 

Blaise bowed first over Satyra’s hand and said, “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” and then he released her to take Arya’s hand and repeat the gesture only this time with more warmth and familiarity.  “Mistress Arya, it is a pleasure to see you again after such a long summer.”

 

“Was it a long summer because you missed our good company or simply because you spent your summer in boredom?” Arya asked in a good natured tone of voice even as Lyra handed her the ice cream that was ordered for her.

 

Blaise smirked.  “Mistress Arya,” he began, “you know that I could not say other than that I missed your gracious company.”  His voice was smooth and charming as he spoke.

 

Lyra laughed along with Arya and she noticed out of the corner of her eye that Satyra was watching Blaise like a hawk.  She could not tell if Satyra liked Blaise or disliked him though she was leaning toward the latter.  Satyra had always preferred frank speech to the charming evasiveness that was Blaise Zabini.

 

She was grateful for Blaise Zabini’s presence since it kept Satyra more subdued than she had been acting before.  While Satyra seemed willing to act a brat before adults today she at least had the good sense to not alienate her peers by acting in such an unattractive way.

 

“Will you not be getting any ice cream, Blaise?” Arya asked of their friend.

 

Blaise shook his head in the negative, “No.  The truth is that I saw you sitting out here with your lovely sister and then I noticed Lyra was standing in the parlor awaiting your order.  I decided that I must go in at once and offer my assistance.”

 

“For which I am grateful,” Lyra politely assured him.  Though she could have easily handled the tray with their ice cream treats, it was very nice of Blaise to have offered to do it for her.  As the oldest child, Lyra was accustomed to handling things on her own, and it was only at Hogwart’s that she had truly been forced to accept that the boys around her were going to do little chivalrous things.  It had been hard for her to deal with at first until she realized that they needed to be permitted to do those little things.  They had been taught to do those things for ladies. 

 

“It was nothing,” Blaise said with a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.  “Have you kept in touch with the others over the hols?”

 

Lyra nodded in the affirmative.  “We spent the summer with our mother and aunt, but we did exchange letters with everyone else.  You were the hardest to reach over the hols, everyone else spent a little bit of time in Britain.”

 

Blaise grimaced.  “I could not help it.  Mother is with yet another paramour and she had put off sending me to visit my uncle for the last four years.  He would not be put off any longer.”

 

“I was not chiding you,” Lyra said.  “Simply stating a fact.”

 

Blaise blushed slightly at that, “Oh, I see.”

 

“Is that Pansy over there in front of Flourish & Blotts?” Satyra suddenly asked as she pointed toward the book shop that was a little further down the other side of the street.  They had the perfect vantage point to view the comings and goings of that shop and of the Leaky Cauldron's entrance to Diagon Alley, from the table that Arya had chosen for them.

 

Lyra looked to the book store for a few moments and then nodded, “I do believe it is.”

 

“We should go greet her then,” Satyra said pointedly.  “We have to go there to collect my school books in any case.”

 

Lyra looked back to her ice cream.  She was almost finished with the small bowl she had purchased.  It had only been two small scoops.  She nodded to Satyra, “Just as soon as I finish this we may go.”

 

Satyra fidgeted in her seat, “Could I not just go on my own, you can see me from here.”

 

Lyra shook her head in the negative.  “Father would flay me,” she informed Satyra.  She was grateful when Satyra subsided at that reminder instead of pushing the issue.  Perhaps if Blaise had not been seated with them she might have.  It was now clear to Lyra that something about Blaise was off putting to Satyra.  It was a pity.  Blaise was a kind boy and he had connections to some of the better Italian families.  For a third daughter of the House of Malfoy, an alliance with him would have pleased their father.

 

Once she finished her ice cream the four arose.  Blaise looked as though he would have liked to escort Lyra but Satyra swiftly grabbed her hand.  Lyra watched his expression turn bemused by Satyra’s actions.  Instead he offered to escort Arya to which the other Malfoy agreed.  Lyra could feel Satyra’s irritation as they walked ahead of the two.

 

“Why does he think he can just force his presence upon us?” Satyra hissed softly to Lyra.

 

“He’s my friend as well as Arya’s,” Lyra told her youngest sibling.

 

“Friend?” Satyra questioned.  “He seems less like a friend and more like some smooth talking suitor.”

 

Lyra smiled at Satyra.  “He’s been in Italy with his father’s kin for the summer hols.  Some of their old world mannerisms was bound to rub off on him.  Besides, if you sort into Slytherin you better get used to the males around you acting like Blaise.”

 

“What do you mean?”  Satyra asked.

 

“Most of the males come from upper crust Pure-blood families just as we do.  They have been taught proper manners all of their lives.  At Hogwart’s they have an opportunity to put them into practice in a safe environment, safer than say Florian Fortescue’s Ice Cream shop,” she said the last pointedly, and was pleased when Satyra’s cheeks were suddenly a rosy red blush.

 

“I get your point,” Satyra said while trying to project a more grown up façade.  “So I will have to get used to males acting like your friend?”

 

“If you sort into Slytherin, yes,” she answered.  “Slytherin House is not just the House of the Cunning.  We also care about the Old Ways and Ancient Traditions.”

 

Satyra nodded her head in understanding.  “But what if I dislike them acting that way?”

 

Lyra smirked as they walked into Flourish & Blotts book store.  “Then pray you sort into Gryffindor.  Despite the supposed Chivalry of that House, I have yet to see one of the Lions act chivalrous.”

 

“Do you hear that Fred?” a voice said from her left.  “The little Malfoy girl says that we Lions aren’t a chivalrous group.”

 

“Did she now?” came the voice of the other one.

 

Lyra took in Satyra’s wide-eyed countenance and then she turned away from her sister to meet the threat of the terrible terror twins of Gryffindor House.  “Fred and George Weasley, always a pleasure to be in such company,” she said lightly.

 

This seemed to give them pause.  “Why is that Little Malfoy?” the twin that she was sure was George asked her.

 

She smiled at him.  “Why? Because everyone knows that the terror twins of Gryffindor bring joy and cheer everywhere they go,” she paused and leaned closer to them both to impart “Well, so long as one has a sense of humor that is.”

 

The twins grinned then and looked at each other before looking back at Lyra.  “I think I like this one Fred.”

 

“I do too,” the one she thought was Fred said.  They could be tricking her though, they tended to do that to everyone around them.

 

“What brings you here Little Malfoy?” one of them asked her.

 

“Books for school?” the other asked.

 

“Or did you want to watch the carnage play out?” the first one said.

 

She blinked at the word carnage and then took a good look around her at just how full the store really was.  “The carnage I think,” she said with a curious tone of voice.  “Just what is going on here?”

 

“It’s a bloody nightmare is what is going on,” one said and Lyra swiftly decided she was assigning him the designation of Red number four and the other would be Red number five.  It made sense in her mind since the twins were the fourth and fifth born sons of Arthur and Molly Weasley.

 

Lyra nodded her head as she took note of the many women and some males in line for the book signing of one Gilderoy Lockhart.  “Oh yes, I see,” she said as she watched Harry Potter get pulled to Lockhart’s side.  She giggled at the startled and horrified countenance of the Boy-Who-Lived.  “Yes, it’s a great Greek tragedy.”

 

Red number five smiled at her.  “See, she gets it.”

 

“Wait, did Lockhart just say he was going to be teaching at Hogwarts?” Red number four asked.

 

Lyra groaned.  “He did,” she confirmed.  “My father is on the Board of Governors.  He told me a few days ago that Mr. Gilderoy Lockhart would be this year’s Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor.”

 

Both of the red headed boys groaned and Lyra was left thinking that this was a truly surreal moment.  She had not really suffered much at the hands of the twin terrors the previous year.  The red headed boys did not like to pick on the First Years much, even if they were in Slytherin.  They were not truly bullies.  They liked to pull pranks, but the kind that made everyone laugh, not the sort that humiliated others.  They often pulled pranks on each other in order to make others laugh.  From what she had seen of them the previous year they just believed in good fun and wanted to make people happy.  She thought they were the type that would be truly repentant if one of their pranks went wrong and upset someone.  Yet these two boys were Weasley’s and the Malfoy’s were hated by the Weasley family.  Ronald Weasley had certainly made that perfectly clear to her.

 

She glanced to her left and frowned when she realized that Satyra had wandered off.  She grimaced but did not let herself panic.  Satyra would not have left the store without Lyra.  She was sure of that.  Arya and Blaise were standing outside, she noted as she glanced out of the window.  The two had clearly chosen to remain outside away from the crowd.  She wished that she had been so clever.  At this rate she very much feared that they would have to return to Diagon Alley another day for their school books, or just have them delivered by owl post.

 

“Well if it isn’t Malfoy,” came the voice of Ronald Weasley.

 

Lyra blinked a moment in surprise at the venom in his voice and turned her gray eyed gaze toward Ronald Weasley who had Hermione Granger on one side of him, Harry Potter on the other and a red haired girl that it took Lyra’s mind a moment to realize was the youngest Weasley child, the only girl.  She could not recall the daughter’s name, but then they had never interacted before.

 

“Weasley,” she nodded her head in perfect greeting, proud that her mother and aunt would have found nothing wrong with her posture nor her tone and inflection.  She was nowhere near as polite to Ronald Weasley as she had been toward his older twin brothers, but she was not aggressive either.  “Potter, Granger, Miss Weasley,” she added to the greeting because it was the correct thing to do.  Her tone of voice was more welcoming to the youngest Weasley than it was to Potter and Granger who were treated to like treatment with Ronald Weasley.  She felt gratified when the youngest Weasley gave her a tentative smile.

 

“What are you doing here, Malfoy?” Ronald snarled.

 

Lyra was surprised that the boy was foolish enough to be so openly hostile toward her.  She understood him doing so in the halls of Hogwarts.  He was a Gryffindor and his family were followers of Dumbledore, so of course he felt he could get away with being awful to her in Hogwarts, but this was not Hogwarts.  No, this was a perfectly respectable book shop in Diagon Alley.

 

He did not deserve an answer but she chose to deliver one anyway.  With a bewildered tone to her voice she responded with, “I was going to attempt to purchase school books for my sisters and I, but that seems like a nearly herculean endeavor today,” at this last she motioned toward the crowd of onlookers and the line of people waiting to meet Gilderoy Lockhart.

 

“It is really crowded in here,” piped up the voice of the youngest Weasley girl.

 

Lyra smiled kindly at her, “It is,” she agreed.  “My little sister and I came in here, but my other sister was smarter than us.  She chose to await us outside.”  She motioned toward the window where the silvery blond head of Arya Malfoy could be seen having a polite discussion with Blaise Zabini.  “Mr. Zabini has chosen to keep her company while she waits.”

 

“I didn’t know you had a little sister, Little Malfoy,” Red number five said then.

 

She smiled at him as she answered him “Yes, her name is Satyra.”

 

She frowned when Ronald Weasley scoffed at her sister’s name.  She turned her hardening gaze upon him.  “Something caught in your throat Mr. Weasley, perhaps you should go outside and purchase a drink from one of the shops?  Or perhaps a simple aquamenti would do?” she suggested the last.

 

He glared at her, “No, there’s nothing wrong with my throat.”

 

“Oh, but I have heard you make such a disparaging sound before,” she pointed out.  “So it was either that your throat had problems or you were insulting my sister’s name.”

 

“Oh you are right bright to have figured that out,” Ronald said.  “Let me spell it out for you, your sister’s name is stupid.”

 

“Ronald!” scolded Granger from beside him.  “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

 

The youngest Weasley nodded her head in full agreement with Hermione Granger.  It was clear that she was not in approval of her brother’s nasty behavior.  The twins did not seem completely enamored of it either.  This gave Lyra some hope that she and her sisters might never have to worry about troubles from those Weasley’s at least.  Satyra and the youngest Weasley were going to be in the same year, perhaps the two girls could get along and become friendly if not friends.  The Weasley and Malfoy feud ended by an everlasting friendship between a girl of House Weasley and a girl of House Malfoy?  She liked the idea, even if she thought it the sort of romantic fancy that Dora had tried to warn her against.  It was a good thing for Lyra that while she could appreciate romantic fancy, she did not possess a squishy romantics soul.

 

Ronald would not be deterred.  “Her name is stupid and so is yours,” he insisted.

 

Lyra flinched and balled her hands into fists at her side.  She wanted so badly to hex the boy. She was glad that Satyra was not at her side right now.  She would hate for this boy to make her cry.  As it was, she was sure that he would be terrible to Satyra just because the girl was a Malfoy.  She had rarely met someone as truly prejudiced against a single family as him.  He was giving her Uncle Severus a good race on who was more prejudiced against a family.  Ronald’s hatred of all things Malfoy seemed every bit as awful as Severus’ hatred of all things Potter.

 

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” came the smooth aristocratic voice of her father from behind her.  She watched as Ronald’s pallor paled slightly at the sight of Lord Malfoy.  “Lyra, do fetch your younger sister.  We shall pay for the books she has collected and then we shall get the rest of your books by mail order.”

 

“Yes sir, I did think the store would be too crowded to accomplish much,” she admitted to her sire.  With a prompt curtsy to him she then turned her attention back to the group of school children before her.  “Weasley’s number four and five it was my pleasure.  Potter, Granger good to see you again.  Miss Weasley it was nice to make your acquaintance,” then she turned her hard gaze on Ronald Weasley and gave him a nod.  “Weasley,” the last was said in an emotionless voice. 

 

With that she turned away and moved through the store to seek out Satyra.  She sighed when she found her sister and one of the store attendants.  The man was carrying a large stack of books.  She knew that father would buy her all of them, just because arguing with Satyra as to why she must have all of them at once was a foolish endeavor to do in public.  “Father is here, he wants us to hurry,” she informed her sister.  She looked to the attendant and smiled politely.  “Please take those to your counter and ring them up.  It will be paid for on the Malfoy account.”

 

“Very good Mistress Malfoy,” the young attendant said before moving away with the books.

 

Satyra smiled.  “I nicked Arya’s school list, so I picked out the books that you and Arya needed as well.  Most of what new books you needed is from that Lockhart.”

 

Lyra smiled as they made their way through the crowd of shoppers.  “Not keen on him then?”

 

“I don’t like strutting peacocks,” Satyra said and then she stole a glance at Ronald Weasley.

 

Lyra noticed the look and frowned.  Satyra was not developing a crush on that horrible boy was she?  She really hoped that her sister had better taste than the likes of Ronald Weasley.  He was mean and nasty to anything that did not suit his ideals.

 

Thoughts of Satyra and Ronald Weasley flew from her mind when she reached the spot her father had been standing and she saw him engaging in a Muggle Brawl with Arthur Weasley.  The two men kept pummeling each other with their fists.  She gasped in alarm and moved forward to attempt to stop her father from causing a further spectacle when she felt two arms grip a hold of her.  She fought against the grip and then felt those arms pull her closer against a chest and then the arms were around her, holding her close and refusing to let her go.  Warm breath at her ear made her cease her struggles.  “Stop it Lyra, you’ll get hurt.”

 

That voice, she knew it.  It haunted her dreams, filling her with a longing that ate at her soul.  She loved that voice and she cursed herself often for that loving.  It was the voice of Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived, the boy whom she had thought was her friend at the first meeting, the boy who shattered her when he had refrained from being her friend.  She should fight him now, get him to release his hold upon her.  She could not find the will to fight.  It felt too good to let Harry hold her.  She ceased to struggle in his arms and some part of her expected him to let her go but he did not.  He seemed to fear that it was a ruse to get him to let her go and so he kept hugging her, holding her tightly from behind.

 

“What do you think you are doing?  And Lyra, what is father doing?” Satyra’s voice was grating to her senses but she stole a glance at her little sister.  The girl was staring at Lucius with wide and frightened eyes.

 

“He’s fighting just like a Muggle would,” she informed Satyra.  “Do you remember what Auntie taught us about Muggle fighting?”

 

Satyra nodded, “They have many ways of fighting because they have had to develop ways to protect themselves.  They do not have wands and so they must have some ways in which they can protect themselves and their loved ones.”

 

“Very good, Satyra,” Lyra said from her position wrapped up in Harry Potter’s arms.

 

“So does that mean that man is a muggle?” Satyra asked with a curious tone.

 

Lyra shook her head in the negative and enjoyed the feeling of Harry’s chin resting on her shoulder.  “No, that man is Mr. Arthur Weasley.  He is a man of good reputation and he works for the Ministry.”

 

“Like father does,” Satyra nodded.  “So why are they fighting?”

 

Lyra winced at the question.  “I fear father might have been rude to him.  The Malfoy’s and the Weasley’s have feuded for a long time Satyra.  I do not know why we have been fighting, but our fathers are led by the feud I think.”  She wished that Satyra would not ask them anymore questions until they were able to go home.  She really did not want to be having this conversation in front of Harry Potter of all people.

 

“He was rude to Mr. Weasley,” Harry confirmed.  “They exchanged words and then, well I’m not really sure who threw the first punch,” he admitted to Lyra.

 

She turned her head to glance at him and noticed the gleam in his green eyes, the excitement of watching a fight.  She shook her head slightly.  Why was it that the male gender enjoyed such violence?  And just what had gotten into her father?  After all of his preaching to them about how they needed to behave themselves and act with proper decorum in Diagon Alley so they did not harm the Malfoy reputation and then what does he do?  He engages in muggle fist fighting with Arthur Weasley.  The shame of it!

 

Lyra giggled slightly as she watched her father land a left hook to Arthur Weasley’s face after Arthur had made some sort of taunting remark.  Well, if they were going to throw decorum aside then they should be sure to fight their hardest and win.  She would be able to tease her father about this for years to come, so she supposed that was something.

 

She felt Harry’s gaze upon her and turned her head to look at him.  He wet his lips as he stared at her and she felt that he was suddenly nervous.  “Lyra, I,” he began but then stopped as a flash of light erupted in front of them.

 

Lyra watched him squint his eyes even as she did herself.  Harry had gotten the full blast of the light whereas she had been turned to the side of it, thankfully.  She looked before them and felt dread seize her as she recognized the Photographer for the Daily Prophet.

 

“Hey, you can’t just take pictures like that!” Harry yelled at the man who was already turning away to take pictures of the fight between Arthur Weasley and Lucius Malfoy.

 

She groaned.  “Actually, he can,” she informed him.  “We are in a public place; therefore, he is protected by the law.  It would be different if we were on private property.”

 

“But this is a store, surely it would be considered private property of the shop owner.  We were not standing outside in the street,” Harry pointed out.

 

“During store hours, all of the shops here would be considered public domain,” she informed him.

 

Harry groaned and rested his chin on her shoulder again.  “So what are we going to do about that photograph?”

 

Lyra frowned at that.  Harry Potter was the one who had embraced her and kept her stuck to him.  So why was he so upset that someone had photographed him holding her?  She felt anger surge through her.  It was because she was a Malfoy that he didn’t want the world to know he had been seen so close to her.  It was the same reason he had chosen to not be her friend.  She glanced at the red heads around her cheering their father on in ‘beating the arrogant git’ and ‘teaching the vile Malfoy his place’ and she felt anger and hurt clash within her for dominance.  She would rather feed the anger than the hurt.

 

“Don’t worry about it, Potter,” she said in a voice that was tight and clenched with her anger.  “I am sure the Prophet will instead print a story about the Weasley and Malfoy feud instead of a photograph about you holding me in Flourish and Blotts.  Now let go of me,” the last she hissed out at him.

 

Harry shook his head growing angry himself.  “I’m just trying to help you, why do you have to be like this?” his voice was angry and she was glad for it.  After the taunts of Potter and Weasley, though mostly from Weasley, of the year before she had grown used to the sound of angry Harry Potter.  It made it easier to just think of him as Potter then.

 

Lyra glared at him.  “You have no right to touch me.  You are not a close relative and you aren’t my friend,” she argued back, her tone was ruthless.

 

He glared hard at her and she felt him loosen his hold.  When she made a move to leave his embrace he maneuvered himself in front of her and he stared into her eyes glaring hard.  “I’m not your friend because you are a ruthless little snake,” he declared even as his hands gripped her upper arms and he shook her.

 

Her eyes widened at his audacity and then narrowed in rage.  “No, you little hypocrite,” she said as she moved closer to him and his eyes widened at her move.  “At least be brave enough,” she sneered the word brave. “To be honest with yourself.  You heard that my name was Malfoy and then you turned your back on me.  You let another boy ruthlessly tear me down over sins that I had not even committed.  You let that boy mock and hurt me and act like I had killed Muggle-borns and Muggles.  You let him do that and you did nothing and then you spent a year going along with him and letting him convince you that I was some sort of evil incarnate,” she took a breath and then glared into his beautiful green eyes.  “That is what happened, Harry Potter, and it happened before the sorting hat had chosen a house for me.  Knowing what House you would sort into, it was the last place I would have wanted to be,” she informed him scathingly.

 

Oh it felt good, so very good to be able to tell the arrogant boy off.  Maybe now that she had, she would be more successful in forgetting the boy existed.  She hoped so.  Thinking about how Harry Potter had acted in the robe shop and then how he had acted on the train hurt in ways she had not known she could hurt.

 

“I,” Harry began to respond after a few moments of silence.  He had stared at her for several moments considering all she had said but more, the why of it.  “I hurt you?” he asked and she immediately stiffened.

 

Of course he had hurt her, badly.  She didn’t want him to know he had hurt her though.  She did not want him to know that he had the power to do it again, that she had not yet severed this strange tie that existed between them.  “Hurt me, you?” she said with a scoff.  It was an attempt at subtle denial.  It did not force her to say the words outright, to lie outright.  It would allow her to misdirect him.

 

“I did,” Harry whispered.  “You were crying when you left the compartment,” he took a steadying breath then and raised his hand to her face, to cup her cheek.  He was shocked when she smacked his hand away.

 

“Don’t you dare touch me so intimately,” Lyra commanded and in that moment she was every bit the Malfoy Heiress, granddaughter of the Old Dragon Abraxas Malfoy.  His hands fell away from her in surprise and she felt bereft for a moment without his touch but she schooled herself not to show him that she felt the loss so keenly. “You lost any such possible right a year ago,” she informed him and then she moved away from him and grabbed Satyra’s hand and pulled her away from Harry Potter and the rest of the Weasley children.

 

She kept her sister with her by the doors and watched dispassionately as an Auror came into the store and separated Arthur Weasley and her father.  Both men were forced to give statements of how the fight started and due to her father’s considerate offer to cover the expenses of any damaged property the owner of Flourish and Blotts chose not to press charges against the Weasley and Malfoy Patriarchs. 

 

A few moments later, Lucius Malfoy looked nearly immaculate once more with the exception of a split lip.  He covered the cost of his daughter’s school books and then approached the front door of the shop as regal as a prince. “Come Lyra, come Satyra, we are meeting your mother at Melusine’s,” he said casually but loud enough that others could hear the name of the restaurant that existed on the corner of Diagon Alley and Horizont Alley.

 

Lyra turned with her father evading the green eyed gaze of Harry Potter as she exited Flourish and Blotts.  She was forced to prod Satyra along and she glanced back to note that Satyra had in fact been staring at Ronald Weasley.  She sighed, that could bring nothing but trouble.  Against her will she stole a glance at Harry Potter and there was something other than anger toward her in his eyes but she could not decipher it, and she had not time to try.  They exited the shop and swiftly collected Arya.  Lucius spoke briefly and politely with Blaise Zabini and then they parted from Blaise and made their way to Melusine’s.

 

It was only later that night when Lyra was tucked into her bed that she pondered why her father had engaged in a Muggle Brawl.  Though Lucius had tried at dinner to make them think he had simply lost his temper and all patience with the hated Arthur Weasley, Lyra did not quite buy it.  Her father was an arrogant sort, but he was cunning and had a far better mastery of himself than what was displayed earlier that day.  If she didn’t know any better, she would say that he had been ensuring a distraction so that everyone would dwell upon his brawl with Arthur Weasley instead of upon something else.  She frowned into the darkness even as she wondered, ‘Father, what did you do?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Lyra and Arya Malfoy begin their Second Year at Hogwarts and their little sister Satyra Malfoy begins her first year. Enjoy the Sorting.


	5. The Chamber of Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry becomes a hero in the eyes of the Malfoy girls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am very sorry for how long it has taken me to update this fanfic. I hope to do better about this in the future.

The Chamber of Secrets

 

Her body will remain in the chamber forever.

 

Lyra Malfoy trembled as the words burned themselves into her mind.  Some monster had taken her baby sister away into the Chamber of Secrets.  Someone had taken Satyra.  A gasping sob, brought her attention to her twin sister.  Arya was not even trying to hold on to a shred of Malfoy dignity.  She was weeping openly over their younger sister’s fate.

 

Lyra didn’t notice the tears that were trailing down her cheeks as she moved to Arya’s side.  Just as Lyra had reached her, Arya’s legs seemed to give out.  It was only by the intervention of Lyra and Professor Vector that Arya had not hit the floor.

 

“They need to go to the hospital wing, I think, Septima if you would please,” Minerva McGonagall said in an evasive almost flighty way.  It unnerved Lyra because she had never seen the severe matronly professor so undone.

 

She let Professor Vector take charge of Arya but she did not follow.  Instead she asked, “What is to be done?”

 

“Done?” One of the Professor’s asked of her.  She recognized him as being in charge of Magical Art, an elective class.  “My dear girl, the child has been taken into the Chamber of Secrets.  There is nothing to be done.”

 

“That…no…no that is not acceptable,” Lyra managed to get out despite her shock that these professors seemed to think that nothing could be done.  “No, that monster took a student, it took,” she paused trying to keep back her tears.  “That is my sister down there!  I demand you tell me where this Chamber is and I’ll go myself to get her back.”

 

Professor McGonagall shook her head sadly and then looked to Professor Snape.  Lyra felt her Head of House move into a position closer to her, but she could barely focus on his position, could only think about Satyra and how to somehow save her.

 

“Miss Malfoy, please understand that we do not know where the entrance to the Chamber is.  If we did, then we would have already rid the school of this monster.  I am sorry my dear girl.  So very sorry,” McGonagall’s voice wavered and nearly broke on a sob at the end.  Tears were in the matron’s eyes and it was all too much for Lyra.

 

“You’re sorry?” Lyra was flabbergasted.  “You’re sorry.  Sorry is not going to find my sister.  She could still be alive right now and you are not doing anything to try to find her.  You aren’t trying at all.  You, you cowards!”

 

She felt hands upon her upper arms then, the contact was both firm but soothing.  She instantly knew that it was her God-father, Severus Snape the Head of Slytherin House, who held her.  She still could not calm though.

 

“Do something!  Or give me a lead, tell me where to go so that I might find the Chamber.  I have to save Satyra!” her voice fell to a sob as she said her sister’s name.

 

She felt herself shaken then and she was then turned around to face Professor Snape.  She blinked up at him, tears swam in her vision and poured down her cheeks as she reached out to him.  “Uncle Sev, please,” but please what?  ‘Save Satyra.  Don’t let Satyra be dead.  Please mother magic if a Malfoy must be sacrificed then let it be me and not Satyra.’  The thoughts ran through her head as Severus pulled her into a hug.  She buried her face in his robes and began to sob, unable to control herself.

 

“I have you,” Severus murmured to her as he held her close.  “Minerva I will take her to the infirmary.”

 

“Poor dear, she is overwrought.  Not that I blame her,” Pomona Sprout said in compassion for the poor girl.

 

Harry Potter watched from beneath the safety of his invisibility cloak as Lyra Malfoy begged the teachers to help her to help her sister.  He watched the tears fall from her eyes and felt lead form in the pit of his stomach.  The last time he had seen tears in her eyes had been in first year when they were on the train to Hogwarts, but it had not been quite like this.  It had not felt this devastating.  She had managed to control herself then, but now the tears fell and he knew she had lost her cool and aloof control.

 

He kept silent watch as McGonagall talked to her as though Satyra Malfoy were already dead, as though it were fact.  He felt righteous fury rise in him at that.  They didn’t know that Satyra was dead!  They didn’t know anything and yet they were doing nothing, no matter how Lyra begged them.

 

He silently followed Professor Snape as the man led Lyra away.  He kept his steps light so that the more observant Professor would not hear him.  He had little to worry about though, Snape’s attention was completely focused on the weeping Malfoy heiress.

 

Harry nearly feared that Snape had heard him when he glanced back behind them, but then Snape turned his attention back to Lyra and he lifted the girl up into his arms.  Harry gaped a moment in shock at the tender expression that briefly graced Snape’s face.  It was gone in a flash and Harry was sure that if he had not seen that look with his own eyes he would never believe that the Greasy Git could look at someone in that way. 

 

Once Harry recognized that Snape was really taking Lyra to the infirmary, he ceased to follow them.  He leaned against the wall for a moment and thought hard on what he had heard.  Satyra Malfoy had been taken into the Chamber and if no one did anything then she would be dead soon.

 

His mind flashed back to Lyra’s face as she had begged the faculty to save her sister.  Tears streaming from her gray eyes, turning them silver.  Her face alive with more emotion than he had seen from her since he had met her and she had tried to befriend him in Madam Malkin’s Robe Shop.  He then thought of her face as she was picked up by Snape, grief, deep and horrible heartbreak. 

 

He pushed off of the wall and ran toward Gryffindor Tower.  The plan was forming in his mind as he ran.  He needed to act and fast.  He knew where the entrance to the Chamber of Secret’s was.  He knew how to open it.  He needed Ron to help him go to Lockhart.  The DADA Professor might be in love with his own fame, but he was still a skilled Wizard to have done all that he wrote about in his books, right?  He might be their only way to save Satyra Malfoy.

 

He nearly swore when he reached the portrait of the Fat Lady having forgotten that he still had his invisibility cloak on.  He swiftly took it off and then almost yelled the password at her.

 

“My word!” the Fat Lady said in shock, but Harry didn’t care.  She opened the door letting him into the Gryffindor Common Room.

 

He scanned the room swiftly until he spotted Ron staring at a chessboard.  Too few were willing to play chess with Ron anymore.  Probably because the red-head always won.  Well, except against Percy.  Harry snickered briefly at the thought but it swiftly fled with the reminder of Lyra’s tears and what was at stake.

 

“Ron, I need your help!” Harry exclaimed to him as he jerked on Ron’s arm pulling the other boy from his chair, oversetting the chessboard in the process.

 

“Oiy, Harry!”  Ron exclaimed.  “What’s the rush?”

 

“I’ll tell you everything on the way, but you need to come with me right now!”  Harry ordered his best friend even as he led the boy out of the Gryffindor Common Room.

 

Harry explained everything he had seen on their way to the Defense Classroom.  He was startled for a moment by Ron’s callousness.  “Well, it would serve the Malfoy’s right, wouldn’t it?” he had said and Harry had paused to glare at him.

 

“She’s just a child, a first year,” Harry had hissed at him.  Ron had remained defiant as Harry had said, “She’s never done anything bad to you,” but he caved when Harry added, “How would you feel if it were Ginny?”

 

That had got Ron moving again and his face set into a new mask of determination.  Harry was just relieved that Ron was now on board with his plan to get Professor Lockhart to help them save Satyra from the Basilisk.

 

The boys frowned in confusion when they noticed Lockhart was hastily packing.  “Going somewhere?” Harry nearly snarled at the man.  The coward!  Was he just going to run?  Didn’t he care that a little girl had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets by the monster?

 

Between Ron and Harry, they forced Lockhart to accompany them down to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom and they made him go down into the Chamber first.  Harry thought himself an absolute fool that he had not seen it coming sooner.  Of course, Lockhart would attempt to take one of their wands.  He supposed he should count himself lucky that it was Ron’s broken wand that had been taken.  The cave-in forced him to go on alone without Lockhart or Ron to help him.

 

He was an idiot!  A complete fool! First, he had failed to see that Lockhart would take one of their wands and then he had let his wand be easily taken up by Tom Riddle, an apparition that was growing in power. 

 

As Tom explained it; Satyra Malfoy had been disappointed not to be sorted into Slytherin House.  The girl had become a Ravenclaw instead, like her sister Arya, but Satyra had longed to be a Slytherin to please her father Lucius.  The girl had suffered his great disappointment over her sorting into Ravenclaw House and she was hated by her fellow Housemates.  The other girls in her year, except for one, were scared to have anything to do with her.  Satyra had not wanted to reach out to her older sisters, because she felt she had to prove to them that she could keep up with them.

 

Satyra had poured all of her sorrows, her hurts, and her longings into an enchanted book that had been owned by Tom Riddle.  This allowed Tom Riddle to thrive, become strong, and begin to take control of young naïve Satyra.  She had, under his power, opened the Chamber of Secrets and controlled the Basilisk.  With Satyra’s death, Tom Riddle would be strong and fully alive once more.  It was a type of magic that Harry had never heard of before, but that was not the worst of it.

 

The worst part was when Tom Riddle revealed that he was Lord Voldemort. 

 

When the Basilisk was called forth, Harry did the only thing he could do, he kept his eyes away from its deadly stare and he ran away.  He was surprised when Fawkes, Professor Dumbledore’s Phoenix familiar, came flying into the room along with the sorting hat.  It dropped the hat at Harry’s feet and then proceeded to attack the Basilisk blinding first one eye and then the other, saving Harry from its terrible stare.

 

As Tom Riddle screamed in rage at the damage done to his minion, Harry drew Gryffindor’s sword from the sorting hat.  He ran when Riddle ordered the Basilisk to use its other senses to find Harry.  He hid himself from the Basilisk until it passed him by in the tunnels.  Then Harry sought a way back to Satyra Malfoy.

 

He didn’t feel very courageous as he faced the might of the Basilisk again from atop the great statue of Salazar Slytherin.  At least, he assumed it was Slytherin himself.  He felt fear churning inside of him.  He had almost run away yet again before he had climbed atop the statue.  Only the memory of Lyra Malfoy’s tears and the bitter thought that time was running out had forced Harry to climb high hoping that getting up higher would help him to somehow defeat the monster and save Satyra. 

 

‘Now,’ he thought as he jerked his arm up, stabbing the basilisk through the roof of its mouth with the Sword of Godric Gryffindor. He cried out in pain as one of the Basilisk’s jagged teeth sunk into his arm.  He gripped his arm and gasped in pain even as the Basilisk began to wilt toward the ground, writhing in its death throes. 

 

He heard Tom Riddle scream in rage at the loss of his great weapon even as Harry managed to fumble his way down from the top of the statue and he fell to his knees beside Satyra and the diary book.  Harry drew the tooth out of his arm with a great grunt of pain as he listened to Tom Riddle begin to gloat about his victory.

 

“It doesn’t matter anymore.  You cannot save her,” Tom Riddle gloated and Harry tuned out the rest of the man’s petty speech as his mind raced for an answer.  There had to be a way he could save Satyra.  Lyra would be so sad.  She would never get over Satyra’s death.  He just knew it.  She would never smile again, he was sure of it.

 

His mind again thought of Lyra Malfoy with desperate tears streaming down her cheeks as she said the word “Do something!” and so he did.  Harry took the only weapon he had at hand, the tooth of the dead Basilisk and he opened the book.  It had started with the diary so maybe, just maybe, it would end with it as well.

 

Tom Riddle seemed to realize what he was going to do before he did it.  The apparition took a step forward crying out, “Don’t!” but Harry did not heed him.  He stabbed into the book and black ink came bubbling out as though it were blood.  He stabbed the book a second time and watched as Tom Riddle began to disintegrate in front of him.   A third time and Tom Riddle was no more.  A soft gasp from his left told him that Satyra Malfoy had awakened. 

 

He looked to her and smiled reassuringly at her, despite the pain he was in.  “It’s going to be alright,” he promised her.  “You’ll be fine now.”

 

He turned his attention away from her when Fawkes landed before him.  He smiled at the beautiful Phoenix and shuddered in pain.  “You were brilliant Fawkes.  I wasn’t fast enough.”  Then he watched amazed as the Phoenix wept over his wound.  A few tears fell and he felt a warmth spread through his body even as the jagged wound began to mend.

 

“Phoenix tears have healing powers,” the youngest Malfoy child whispered as she stared through teary eyes at Harry and Fawkes.  The Phoenix then went to her and he sang softly in an attempt to comfort the girl.  “Why?  Why did you of all people come for me?  You don’t like my family.”

 

Harry didn’t know how to answer her.  He couldn’t very well tell her that the thought of Lyra Malfoy never getting over her death had spurred him into action.  He couldn’t tell her that Lyra’s tears had any sort of power over him.  The girl may have sorted into Ravenclaw but she had wanted to be a Slytherin and she was a Malfoy.  She was also Lyra’s sister, and would surely tell the older girl anything he confessed here.  Lyra didn’t need to know that she had any sort of hold over Harry’s emotions.  He couldn’t trust Lyra Malfoy with his heart.

 

‘That didn’t stop you from trying to save and protect hers though, now did it?’ his inner voice whispered and Harry really wished he could silence it.

 

“It was just the right thing to do,” Harry told her and he left it at that as he once more gained his feet.  “Come on, we need to find our way back to Ron and Lockhart and then figure out how to get out of here.”

 

Harry led the way back to where he had been separated from Ron and Professor Lockhart.  He was relieved to see that Ron had managed to shift some of the rocks.  “Ron,” Harry called out.  “Are you there?”

 

“Harry, are you alright?” Ron asked in a voice full of worry.  “Did you save the little Malfoy?”

 

Harry glanced at Satyra who made a face at being referred to as “The Little Malfoy,” and he chuckled.  “Yes, she’s with me now.  There’s enough room for us to get through if we do this one at a time.  I am going to hand Satyra through to you.”

 

“Alright,” Ron acknowledged.

 

Harry then helped Satyra to climb to the top of the cavern where she would be able to squeeze through the opening that Ron had created to the other side.  “Easy,” Harry said as he held her hands and helped to ease her through to the other side. 

 

He then followed her through and was surprised to see Satyra in the arms of his best friend, Ronald Weasley.  Ron was blushing nearly as bright as his hair as he muttered to Harry, “She tripped, so I couldn’t let her fall.”

 

It was tempting to tease Ron more thoroughly, but he let the opportunity slide for now.  He was sure he could use it against the red-haired boy later.  In any case, Satyra did not seem to mind being held by Ron.  “How did you manage to accomplish this?” Harry asked instead, referring to the small opening that Ron had managed to clear.

 

“It got easier once Lockhart began helping me.  We turned it into a game.  He likes games and puzzles.  You know, he’s not such a bad bloke this way,” Ron explained.

 

Harry was determined to take Ron’s word for it.  He didn’t want to spend any more time at all with the man who had attempted to wipe his memories.  “Right, well we need to find a way out of here,” Harry commented.

 

Satyra frowned at that.  “How did you get inside?”

 

Ron pointed up toward the ceiling.  “There is a way in through one of the fawcets in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom,” he explained to her.  “We had to jump down.”

 

She glanced up and then stared at Ron with a slightly furrowed brow.  “So, there were no stairs we could climb?”

 

“Obviously,” Ron said with some venom to his tone.

 

The venom in his voice made Harry wince and Satyra shrunk back a bit away from Ron, an easier thing for her to do since he had released her.  It seemed that Ron had remembered that he was speaking with a Malfoy.  That was the only reason that Harry could think of as to why Ron had suddenly turned venomous toward the girl, when he had been kind to her a few moments before.

 

“What about a ladder?” Satyra asked after a few moments of looking around.  “Surely whoever built the Chamber of Secrets didn’t just jump down and fly back up again.”

 

“The Chamber was built by Salazar Slytherin, obviously,” Ron chose to comment.  Again, his voice was full of loathing.

 

Harry watched the girl frown at Ron.  “Well, yes, that is the popular theory.  Many think that it was actually one of his descendants who built the Chamber of Secrets.  It doesn’t really matter who built it though,” she said as Ron opened his mouth to refute her claim.  “What matters is that we need to get out of here.”

 

“Agreed,” Harry said because he didn’t want to be witness to a fight between Ron and Satyra if he could help it.  He just wanted to get them back to safety.  Lyra was in the infirmary crying over her sister.  Harry needed to get Satyra to her.

 

Fawkes came to land on his shoulder and trilled at him.  Harry absently pet the animal as he thought on what Satyra had said.  “Fly!” Harry said suddenly startling the other three occupants of the room.  He looked at Fawkes then and smiled at him.  “Fawkes, you could fly us out of here, couldn’t you?”

 

The bird trilled at him and then, as though to prove himself, he arose from Harry’s arm and then clamped tightly to Harry.  He flew up with him.  Harry nearly panicked when he felt his feet leave the ground and he closed his eyes tightly when he looked down to see that Ron, Satyra, and Lockhart were far below him now.  He could hear the echo of Ron’s cries of his name as Fawkes flew him up into Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.  Once he was on solid ground again, Harry looked at the bird.  “Could you please bring up Satyra next and then Ron and finally Lockhart?”

 

Fawkes didn’t answer him in any way, he just flew back down into the cavern.  Harry kept up a nervous watch until Fawkes returned with Satyra.  Then Fawkes dove once more and retrieve Ron.  At last he retrieved Lockhart.

 

Harry gave Ron a victorious smile.  They had done it.  They had saved Satyra Malfoy from a horrible fate.  Harry had stopped Lord Voldemort yet again.  Lyra would not have to cry in mourning over her sister.  Lockhart had revealed himself to be a fraud and had received his own come-uppance.  “We need to get to the infirmary,” Harry said.

 

Ron nodded his agreement and both boys escorted Satyra and Lockhart to the infirmary.  Harry was more than a little bit annoyed that they didn’t meet any of the professors along the way.  They paused before the infirmary doors just in time to hear Lucius Malfoy’s voice coming from within.  It was ice-cold and deadly.

 

“What do you mean, you have no way to save my daughter?” he demanded.

 

There was a sob then and Harry was not sure if it had come from Lyra or Arya but he couldn’t take the thought that it had been Lyra.  He pushed open the infirmary doors and took in the scene before him.  Lucius Malfoy stood in finely cut wizarding robes of solid black.  His cane was clutched tightly in his hand as though he were debating using it to clobber the Professor’s with.  Well, all the professors except for Snape who stood behind him to the left-hand side nearer to the Malfoy sisters.  Harry’s eyes sought out Lyra and he found her with her arms wrapped protectively around her twin sister.  Arya Malfoy was sobbing into her sister’s chest while Lyra was running her hands through the other girl’s hair and over her back in a loving and soothing gesture.  Tears danced in Lyra’s eyes but they were being held in.

 

“As I have explained, Lucius, the creature took your daughter into the chamber,” the voice Harry least expected to hear said and he blinked in surprise to realize that Professor Dumbledore stood there beside Professor McGonagall.  “There is nothing we can do.”

 

Lucius sneered.  “This would not be the first time you allowed monsters to roam freely in your school and you did nothing,” he said.  “Why the Board of Governors allowed you back I cannot imagine.”

 

“Ah,” Dumbledore said in a tone that was somewhat fond.  “I do believe that they had been coerced into relieving me of command.  Some of them had said they feared you would curse their families.”

 

“How dare you?”  Lucius growled out but then a gasp from behind him had him turning toward his two daughters.

 

Harry stared at Lyra Malfoy and watched her slowly release her hold on her sister Arya.  The other Malfoy girl looked to Lyra and then followed her gaze and gasped aloud as well.  Harry watched tears fall down Lyra’s cheeks as she took a step forward toward him.  This caused all of the others to slowly turn toward the door and then there were many gasps and startled cries.  People began to speak all at once, but there was only one voice that Harry truly heard.

 

“Satyra,” Lyra Malfoy said as she moved forward in a rush of motion.  She froze before her little sister and stared at her, gray eyes taking in every detail as they roved over the younger girl.  Harry noticed every aspect of her.  The way her bottom lip trembled hard as she tried to keep the sob within.  How her eyes shone silver due to her tears.  Her cheeks were flushed.  Her hand shook as it rose to touch her younger sister’s cheek. “Satyra,” she breathed out the word and then the younger girl let loose a sob.

 

Satyra Malfoy crumbled then and Lyra caught her and held her tight.  Satyra began sobbing and then began to murmur to her older sister about how disappointed she was to not follow Lyra into Slytherin.  How lonely she had been, friendless.  How she had not wanted to burden Arya nor Lyra with the knowledge because she needed them to know she could be strong like Lyra was.  She whispered to Lyra about the book and about the black outs.  She told Lyra about Tom Riddle.

 

If Harry had not been watching Lucius at that moment, he would have missed the flinch when Satyra had mentioned Tom Riddle.  So, Lucius knew something of Tom Riddle?  Was he responsible for the book?  He kept quiet about the book for now.  He would talk with the Headmaster alone about what had happened in the Chamber of Secrets.  Satyra had not witnessed his fight against the Basilisk, she had only seen the thing dead in the aftermath of her awakening.  He would give his information to Dumbledore alone about what he faced down there.  Somehow, he thought it best that few people know about it.

 

“Oh darling, sweet Satyra!” Arya said from her position beside Lyra.  “You don’t have to be so strong all of the time.  Lyra had friends to help her,” she told the girl.

 

“And I have always had the two of you,” Lyra whispered to Satyra and Harry watched as she kissed the younger girl on the forehead.  He was loathe to leave his spot beside them.  He felt as though he were guarding Lyra and there was something about it that felt right.  As though he were some sort of knight.

 

Maybe that basilisk poison had affected him in strange ways for him to be having such thoughts?

 

Dumbledore called his name gently and motioned for him to come to him and though Harry was reluctant to do so, he moved to obey.  He found his movement frozen by Lyra Malfoy’s hand suddenly grabbing his arm.  He stared at her hand and slowly let himself meet her eyes.

 

“You saved her?” she asked of him, her voice quiet but strong.

 

He stared into her gray eyes and nodded once.  “Yes,” he answered simply with no need for embellishment.  She didn’t want it, he knew.

 

“You brought her back to us?” she asked of him.

 

His brow furrowed in confusion.  Had he not just answered this question?  “Yes,” he answered her again.  He noted then the magic, a tingling in the air around them.  What was this feeling?

 

“Thank you, Harry James Potter,” Lyra spoke softly and solemnly.  “The House of Malfoy owes you a life debt for your saving of its youngest daughter, Satyra Luciana Malfoy.”

 

Harry felt the magic tingle and grow warm around him.  “I, no, you don’t owe me anything.  It was just,” the way to keep you from crying.  He couldn’t finish the sentence, could not tell her that.  “The right thing to do,” he said keeping with what he had told Satyra in the Chamber of Secrets.

 

She nodded.  “I, Lyra Ysandre Malfoy, the Heiress Malfoy recognize that you Harry James Potter did not seek any personal gain in rescuing Satyra Luciana Malfoy from danger.  Yet, regardless of this, the House of Malfoy owes you a debt and it shall be repaid.”

 

Harry watched her and was impressed when her eyes at the last shot away from him to stare at her father.  There was a hard and deadly look in her beautiful eyes and a warning was there as she looked for that moment at her father.  She slowly released her hold upon him and he felt bereft of her touch for a moment.

 

‘Ridiculous!’ he told himself.  He moved then to Professor Dumbledore’s side, as the man had requested.

 

“My daughter is quite right,” Lucius Malfoy declared.  “You saved my youngest child, Mr. Potter.  We owe you a debt of our gratitude.”

 

“Life-debt!” the three voices of the Malfoy daughters insisted together and Harry was amused to see Lucius Malfoy wince.  “Yes, of course, it is a Life-debt.”

 

“Ron helped me to get Satyra to safety,” Harry said of his red-haired best friend.  The look on Lucius Malfoy’s face was as though he had swallowed a lemon.

 

Satyra nodded then and said, “He was very brave.  He helped to get me through the caved in rubble.  When Fawkes came back down from flying Harry up to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, Ron insisted that I must be taken up next.  He refused to go before me.  He insisted it was more important for me to go up where it was safer.”

 

Ron looked embarrassed by this and Harry could imagine that Ron’s comments had been somehow snider than the youngest Malfoy girl was revealing.  Clearly the younger girl was refusing to play the game of snip and snarl that Ron enjoyed engaging the Malfoy sister’s in.  Instead she was ignoring his tone and paying attention to his actions.  Harry couldn't help but find it interesting, despite the situation.

 

“I, well,” Lucius paused as though he were somehow pained by his daughter’s revelation.

 

Lyra took the lead then and turned her gaze upon Ron.  “Thank you, Ronald, Bilius Weasley for taking such good care of my sister.  It was incredibly chivalrous of you to see to her safety and comfort before your own.  I can see now that you are a proud Lion of Gryffindor House,” she said and Harry had to bite his lip to keep from laughing as Ron almost preened under her praise.  “The House of Malfoy owes you a debt of gratitude for taking such good care of Satyra Luciana Malfoy.”

 

“I,” Ron swallowed hard, “I didn’t do it for a reward.  It was just the right thing to do.  We couldn’t let her be hurt, it wouldn’t have been right.”

 

“Yes, well whatever your reasons, you have certainly earned our gratitude Mr. Weasley,” Lucius said in a cool voice, he had clearly recovered his composure.  “We shall be checking in on you in due time to settle the debt.”

 

He then turned toward the Headmaster.  “In the meantime, I wish to spend a little time with my children, if that can be arranged Professor Dumbledore?”

 

Dumbledore nodded his head magnanimously and then Snape offered to lead the three girls and their father to a private lounge.  Poppy Pomfrey, who had been tending to Professor Lockhart made to protest because she had not yet been permitted to look over Satyra.

 

“I shall have my own healer called to look over her,” Lucius said with a sneer showing his distaste for the school healer.  She made a noise of displeasure but turned back to dealing with Lockhart.

 

Harry watched as Lucius Malfoy walked beside Severus Snape, leaving his daughters to follow after him.  Arya wrapped an arm around Satyra and did not seem intent to release her hold on her younger sister anytime soon.  Lyra took up the rear and seemed content to watch over her two siblings.  She glanced back once and locked eyes with Harry and there was a small smile that curved her lips.  It was gone in the next moment, her face more controlled the way he was used to seeing her around the school.

 

He watched her walk away and only after that did he give in to the prodding of Madam Pomfrey to look him over.  Once he was cleared from the infirmary he followed Professor Dumbledore to his office where he sat down the book on his desk.  He sat down in a chair across from the Headmaster of Hogwarts and he began to tell his story of how and why he had journeyed down into the Chamber of Secrets.  He held very little back.  He had even admitted to Dumbledore that Lyra Malfoy’s tears had been his greatest motivation in both entering the Chamber and in his battle against the Basilisk. 

 

When Harry fell into bed later that night, it was to an exhausted sleep.  The memory of Lyra Malfoy’s soft smile was the last thing he thought of before he succumbed to exhausting sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Narcissa Malfoy confronts her husband, Lucius Malfoy about the events of the Chamber of Secrets.


	6. Narcissa's Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Narcissa begins to plot against Lucius whom she now sees as the enemy

Narcissa’s Rage

 

White Hall, Suffolk, England

July 17, 1993

 

Narcissa sighed as she rested her head against the back of the wooden chair.  The chair was made of solid English Oak.  It had been commissioned by her years ago when the girls were still quite young.  It had been lovingly hand carved by Carver Sprout, the Grandson of Hogwart’s Herbology Mistress, Pomona Sprout.  The chair had long ago been placed deep in the lush park of White Hall, her beloved home and favored retreat from the stifling mausoleum that was Malfoy Manor.  White Hall, though elegantly decorated, was first and foremost a home for herself and her three girls and she cherished the times that she and her daughters spent there.

 

Narcissa had always loved White Hall and now she was determined to make it her permanent residence.  If she had her way, she and her daughters would not return to Malfoy Manor, at least not until Lucius was dead.

 

It was ironic that Narcissa now looked at her husband as her worst enemy.  She no longer viewed him with the loving regard she once had.  Once she had been willing to undergo dark magic to beget him his precious male heir.  It had resulted in two beautiful daughters instead and had left her barren, but those daughters meant everything to her.  Lucius had not been pleased with the birth of daughters.  He had only occasionally shown any pleasure in his daughter’s existence.  She had thought she understood his disappointment.  She had even tolerated the affair he had engaged in during her pregnancy.  She had learned of the affair after the birth of the girls when the woman had died in childbirth and her daughter had been brought to Malfoy Manor for Lucius to see to.  Narcissa had claimed the girl as her own and the few in Wizarding Society who knew otherwise either respected her too much or feared her too dearly to whisper about it.

 

She ignored Lucius’s affairs over the years.  So, long as he was discreet and didn’t leave the woman pregnant then Narcissa was willing to keep the peace.  Their marriage had become a partnership of sorts.  Over the years, Lucius’s lack of fidelity had eaten at their marriage until partnership was all that they had left.  Still, Narcissa had trusted him to obey the rules of their partnership.  The first of those rules had been that Lucius would do nothing to publicly shame her or her daughters.  The second was that he would do nothing to endanger Lyra, Arya, and Satyra.

 

Lucius had broken the rules that Narcissa had cared the most about.  He had endangered her daughters and his actions, if they ever became known, would shame her daughters publicly.  There would be no forgiveness from her for his actions.  What he did was despicable.  She had removed his magical signature from the wards of White Hall, banning him from accessing them, and shielding her daughters from his poisonous presence.

 

She sighed as she closed her eyes, smiling softly as a soft breeze caressed her face.  The sound of leaves rustling overhead was soothing.  The air was chill with the hint of a summer storm.  She should return to the house, she knew.  Her solicitor was due any time now.  They had been in talks since early July with him trying to find ways that would free her from her marriage to Lucius Malfoy and permit her to claim full custody of her three daughters.  Thus far, Mr. Corner had yet to find a way for her to divorce Lucius and keep custody of her daughters.  There was even the fear that Lucius would make public that Satyra was not her own child and thus remove Satyra from her custody.

 

The girls had been home at Malfoy Manor no more than two days before she had decided to confront Lucius with the knowledge that she had gained from her daughters.  Satyra had told her of how she had found a book on the train to Hogwarts and that she had recognized it as belonging to her father.  It was a rather old looking journal but it seemed that no one had ever written in the book.  She had thought that Arya had somehow lost it and had intended to give it back to the girl, but then she and Arya had gotten into another spat, as they had done all summer, and in a moment of vindictiveness Satyra had chosen to keep the book for herself.  She had been surprised when the book had written back to her, but it had said it was a memory and how could a memory do harm to anyone?

 

Whatever the book was, it had been no mere memory.  The book was dark, dangerous and had possessed Satyra, feeding off of her magic and her very spirit.  When Narcissa had questioned Arya, the girl had revealed that she had not taken the book from home.  She had not seen it before.  Narcissa was sure that her daughter was not lying and had spoken with Lyra.  Her oldest daughter likewise had not taken the book from home, but Lyra had reminded Narcissa of the day in which Lucius had brawled like a muggle against Arthur Weasley in Flourish and Blotts.  Narcissa had to agree with Lyra’s assessment that it was quite out of character for Lucius.  Narcissa had thought as much at the time but had shrugged it away because she knew that Arthur Weasley got under her husband’s skin in ways that few people ever could.  Lyra believed that his actions that day was a distraction and it made Narcissa question her husband’s. 

 

She listened intently to Lyra’s theory that Lucius had slipped the diary to Ginevra Weasley, and that the girl must have finally noticed the book on the train and recognizing that it was not her own had gotten rid of it.  Narcissa had to admit that the theory was plausible.  Slipping a dangerous book among the young Weasley girl’s things was the sort of ruthless thing that Lucius was certainly capable of doing.  Though Narcissa felt annoyance with the Weasley child for not taking the book to a prefect or to a teacher, she didn’t let it detract from the true culprit.  Lucius was the one at fault.  He was an adult and he had tried to harm a child.  It was despicable.  She could not let him go unpunished, could she?

 

The answer was a resounding no.  She was a daughter of the House of Black and Vengeance burned in their blood.  She was also the proud daughter-in-law of the Old Dragon, and she had sworn to him that she would do all that she could to protect the future of his house.  That future was her daughters, not her husband.  She could not let him get away with harming her family, her Black blood would not stand for it.  It had been with such thoughts in mind that she had confronted her husband.

 

“I know what you did, Lucius,” she had said in a voice that was measured and controlled, hiding her rage.  She wanted to hex him until he bled.  She wanted to hurt him until he begged for mercy.  She let herself burn with indignation and fury that this man was the reason why her daughter had been harmed.  It was unacceptable.  Behavior that was most unbefitting for a man of his station.  It was unbefitting for a Malfoy.  While Malfoy’s were supposed to crush their enemies, they were not supposed to harm the innocent.  “I know that the book belonged to you, Lucius.  You put it in with the Weasley girl’s books and then picked a fight with Arthur Weasley to distract everyone from what you had done.”

 

Lucius had looked at her with an appraising eye.  “Yes, I did,” he chose truth over a lie, which surprised her.

 

She clenched her hands into fists at her sides to keep them from going for her wand then and there.  “Did you know what the book would do?” she had demanded to know.

 

“I knew that the book was dark magic, but otherwise no,” Lucius had admitted to her.  He stared at her with cool ice-blue eyes, eyes that she had once adored.  “I wanted the Weasley family to suffer, and their precious daughter being booted out of Hogwarts School due to bringing Dark Magical artifacts into the school would certainly have shamed the family’s reputation.”

 

She had narrowed her eyes into a fierce glare then.  “When you learned that a monster was going around the school terrorizing the students and faculty, did you think that it was connected to the book you gave the Weasley girl?”

 

“Of course, but I couldn’t very well come forward and admit to anything,” Lucius had reasoned.

 

As much as she hated it, Narcissa saw the sense of his statement.  No, he could not have come forward.  He would have shamed their family with his admission.  He might have even been forced to serve a few years in Azkaban Prison for endangering the lives of the students.

 

“You didn’t care that this book might hurt the Weasley girl, did you?”  she had asked softly and felt her breath catch when his cold eyes narrowed at the question.  His expression told her everything.  It was as though he thought her question was ridiculous.

 

“The Weasley’s are our enemies.  They have been for centuries now.  If the girl had died then she would have been one less little rodent to worry about,” he declared.

 

Narcissa had felt her breath hitch at that admission.  “You, you nearly killed my daughter!” her voice had risen on the end.  “Your lust for revenge against the Weasley’s nearly cost you your daughter.  Don’t you care about that?”

 

Lucius had stared at her then with ice cold eyes that slowly became hard as steel.  “Why should I?  I have two more after all.”

 

Narcissa had stepped back as if struck.  She felt the harsh sting of tears but she refused to shed them.  Not for this man, never again for this man.  This was not the same man that she had fallen in love with.  He was not the same man that she had married so many years ago.  He was no longer her love.  That man was gone, lost to her now.  This man was different, a stranger wearing her husband’s face and she wanted nothing more than to crush him.

 

“I will never forgive you, Lucius,” she had vowed in a voice that was hard and unforgiving.  “For what you did to Satyra, for how callously you just spoke of her life, I will never forgive you.  If you ever cause harm directly or indirectly to my daughters again, I will punish you in ways that will make your precious Dark Lord’s punishments seem like gentle tickles.”

 

Lucius had for a moment looked wary of her but he recovered swiftly.  “Satyra is not your child,” he had said.  It was a low blow, reminding her that she had not given birth to Satyra, that the girl was the product of Lucius’s affair with another woman.

 

She had refused to let him see the barb draw blood.  “I claimed her as my own.  I have loved her when you refused.  I took care of her when you could not be bothered.  These three girls are the glory of the Malfoy family and they are mine, Lucius.  They are mine!” she said vehemently.  “You dared to hurt what was mine!”

 

“What is yours is mine!” Lucius had roared then but he had frozen when Narcissa had stepped forward and given in to the urge that was coursing through her.  She struck him hard across the face.

 

“I am taking my daughters and we will depart for White Hall.  Do not bother to visit us, I am revoking your rights to visit White Hall,” she had informed him in her cold and unrelenting voice.  Then she had left him alone in his office and she had issued orders to the house elves to pack up her belongings and the belongings of her daughters because they would spend the rest of their summer at White Hall.

 

The first drop of water splashing upon her head had her opening her eyes and coming back to the present.  She sighed and slowly arose from her chair beneath the old Rowan tree.  Lucius hated the tree.  He said that he could not understand what a Rowan tree was doing growing on an estate owned by the Black family.  The unspoken meaning was clear enough for Narcissa.  Rowan trees were said to bear protective qualities from Dark Magic and Dark Wizards.  Since the Black family were widely known as Dark Wizards, Lucius believed that she should cut down the Rowan tree.  He was never willing to go near the tree.  She had once considered doing it but the tree was beautiful and had been there since long before her birth.  It had more rights to be here than she did.  Now, she would leave the tree if only to ward off Lucius.

 

She chose to enjoy the summer rain as she slowly made her way back to the house.  She could call her house elf to come get her but she chose not to call the little elf.  Walking through the grounds as the storm waged overhead, drenching her in rain water, was refreshing.  It helped to clear her mind.  It was also quite improper behavior for the Lady Malfoy.

 

She smiled at that thought and found herself laughing as she rounded the bend of trees to view the back terrace of her home.  Her three daughters were outside in the rain as well.  Arya was upon the veranda but both Satyra and Lyra were in the garden twirling with their arms open wide and their faces tilted up to the heavens.

 

Narcissa swiftly caught up with her girls and she laughed as Satyra took her hand and then grabbed for Lyra’s.  Arya came down to join them and then, holding hands the four Malfoy women pranced in a circle, enjoying the summer rain.  Giggle’s bubbled from her daughter’s throats and Narcissa let herself revel in the pure joy she felt in having her daughters there with her, alive and safe.

 

Their fun was interrupted by her personal elf, Miffy.  “Mistress, Miffy is sorry to disturb you, but Mr. Corner is here.”

 

Narcissa smiled at the news and she then began to usher her daughters inside.  “It’s just as well,” she said with a smile.  “If we stay outside any longer, we will catch a summer cold.  Come on.”

 

It was a testament to the training in deportment that her daughters had undergone during the summer that none of them showed any outwards sign of distress at being forced back indoors.  At the beginning of the summer Satyra would have moaned softly in despair and pouted, but now the girl only nodded understanding that it was an order and she would have to bear it graciously.  Narcissa was proud of her youngest daughter’s progress.

 

The girls entered ahead of her and Narcissa followed them, completely unaware of the eyes that had been watching her closely since she had traversed the lawn and had joined her daughters in a summer rain dance.  Once in doors she was gratified to see that her daughter’s house-elves were present and ready to take control of their charges.  Drying charms swiftly washed over the girls and they were no longer drenched in rain water.  Narcissa felt a drying charm cast over her as well and she glanced at Miffy and smiled her gratitude.  Another elf appeared in the hallway and began to clean the water from the floor.  She smiled at the elf.

 

“Thank you,” she said and it blushed and nodded but said nothing as Narcissa and her daughter’s dispersed.

 

“I’ll be in the study with Mr. Corner,” she told her daughters.  “Only interrupt if it is necessary,” she ordered.

 

“Yes mother,” Lyra said and then she snagged Satyra, “come along, your transfiguration still needs a bit of work.  You almost had it last night.”

 

Narcissa smiled as she watched delight at the praise shine in Satyra’s eyes.  The girl eagerly followed Lyra up the stairs with Arya trailing behind.  She glanced at her hair in the hallway mirror and smiled.  She didn’t look like the perfectly coiffed wife of Lucius Malfoy.  She found that she liked the wild curls that were currently falling down her back, held back from her face by a few delicate looking ivory pins.

 

She went to her study and found Mr. Alexander Corner awaiting her.  Alexander was her solicitor.  She had hired him years ago to manage a few of her own personal investments, things she had chosen to do with her own money that she wanted Lucius to have nothing to do with.   He was now her legal advisor regarding trying to find a way to end her marriage to Lucius.

 

“Narcissa, it is good to see you again,” Alexander Corner said as he rose from the position he had taken upon the sofa.  He had a few documents spread along her coffee table.  He gently took her hand and kissed the top of it and led her to the chair across from the sofa.

 

“Alexander, a pleasure,” she assured him.  “Would you like some tea?”

 

“No thank you, Narcissa,” he declined politely.  “I wish I had good news to tell you, but unfortunately your fear was correct.  Dissolving your marriage to Lucius is practically impossible.”

 

She sighed in disappointment.  “I had feared as much,” she said softly.  “I had to try though,” she said and he nodded in sympathy if not in full understanding.  She had confided in him that she no longer loved Lucius and she feared him and what he might do to her daughters.  He had, despite public appearances, never gotten over the fact that he had daughters instead of sons.

 

“There is only one avenue toward divorce and you gaining custody of your daughters,” Alexander told her.

 

She looked at him with hopeful eyes.  “What?” she asked eagerly.  “What is this avenue?”

 

“Lucius testified that he was not a Death Eater by choice,” Alexander explained to her.  “If you have proof that he willingly became a Death Eater or at any point enjoyed being one and were willing to testify to this then the courts would send him to Azkaban and grant you full custody of your daughters and the Regency of the Malfoy estate until Lyra came of age or was wed.”

 

Narcissa arose then and went to the window and stared out at the storm clouds roiling overhead.  “I was here at White Hall when he was marked,” she admitted sadly.  “He was not a marked Death Eater when I became pregnant with my daughters.  I am grateful for that.  The mark, I think it taints people.  It tainted his magic and I would hate for that taint to have somehow been passed on to my girls,” she said as her hand rose to her throat in a gesture of pure horror at the thought.  “I had lost children before and the quiet of life here at White Hall was considered best for me during my pregnancy.  Malfoy Manor was more like an eternal office due to both Abraxas and Lucius during those days so it was always stressful there,” she shook herself away from the memories.  “My point is that, I would not be able to testify that he had lied about being under the Imperius when he took the Dark Mark because I was not there, I didn’t even live at the Manor at the time and Lucius only rarely visited me here at White Hall.”

 

Alexander nodded with a sad look in his eyes.  “Then I am sorry Narcissa, but there is no legal way to end your marriage,” he said sadly.  “I wish I could do more to help you.”

 

She tamped down on her disappointment and reminded herself that she had not really thought that her marriage could be ended through the legal means anyway.  “Thank you for trying to help me, Alexander,” she said graciously.

 

He nodded and then looked at the papers on the coffee table.  “I brought the paperwork for a few of your businesses.  You need to sign a few documents and that property you owned in Carkitt Market has a new renter,” he told her swiftly changing the subject.

 

She was grateful for the swift change of topic.  She couldn’t free herself and her daughters from Lucius.  She had somehow known that she wouldn’t be able to break the marriage contract.  It was just like both the Malfoy’s and the Black’s to create a contract that was nearly impossible to break.  If Lucius proved a true Death Eater she could break it, but alas, she had no real evidence that he was.  Even his placing of that damned book amongst the Weasley girl’s things didn’t prove he was a Death Eater.  It only proved he had a dark artifact and was a vicious vindictive monster.

 

She spent the next two hours going over the paperwork on her properties and businesses with Alexander.  When it was time for him to go, Narcissa wished Alexander well and sent her regards to his wife and his son Michael, who was a Ravenclaw and friends with her daughter Arya.

 

She filed her own copy of the paperwork in her desk drawer and then movement outside caught her attention.  She found herself once more before the large window staring out onto the grounds.  The storm was truly ferocious now overhead and the wind was lashing against the house and the vegetation outside.  She was now grateful that she had ordered the girls inside since the sky had darkened so much that she could only just make out the shapes of the trees and bushes outside.

 

There was a loud roll of thunder overhead and it seemed to shake the windows of the house and then there was a clash of bright lightening.  It illuminated the grounds for a moment and she felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end as she stared at the black Grim that stared back at her from between two of the trees.  She gasped in alarm and took an involuntary step toward the window to better see out.  All was darkness once more and her eyes scanned the area where she could have sworn she saw the Grim.

 

Lightning flashed again, illuminating the grounds and her eyes scanned for the Grim but she could not see any sign of it.  She felt her heart rate slowly begin to calm and she wondered if she had really seen the Grim, an Omen of Death, or was it just her imagination?


	7. Dementors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dementors board the Hogwarts Express in search of Sirius Black

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for how long it has taken me to get this chapter posted.

Dementors

 

Hogwarts Express

September 1, 1993

 

Lyra glanced out of the windows of the large car that was claimed by herself and her friends.  It was an old dining car, but of course they didn’t serve meals on the express.  Instead a nice lady came around with a trolley cart full of treats for purchase.  Lyra preferred the openness of the dining car to the smaller closed in spaces of the cabins.  She also liked that most of the Slytherin’s could sit in the dining car and they could claim the cabins closest to it.  The car was not only filled with Slytherin’s though.  There were Ravenclaw’s scattered throughout the cabin as well.  It really wasn’t that uncommon for one child in a family to be sorted into Slytherin but another to be sorted into Ravenclaw.  She had noticed that same trend tended to happen between Gryffindor’s and Hufflepuff’s.  Though sometimes the Sorting Hat would put all a family in the same house.  That had been done with the Weasley siblings.

 

Judging by the scenery they were now somewhere in Scotland.  She, like the other Slytherin students, had now memorized the scenery along the route that the Hogwarts Express took to Hogwarts.  By her guess they had another two hours, perhaps a little more, before they would arrive in the village of Hogsmeade.  Then they would take the Hogwarts carriages to the school.  She hoped that this school year would be filled with less terror than the last, but she was worried.  Sirius Black had escaped from Azkaban and many feared that her deranged cousin meant to finish off the last of the Potter’s.  The thought of Harry dead at the hands of her kin filled her with a fury and pain the likes of which she had never imagined.  She had dreamt of Harry, his life’s blood pooling onto the ground beneath him.  His face had been so pale, his lips blue.  Sirius Black had been standing over him laughing.  She had awoken a few times screaming.  She couldn’t, wouldn’t let any harm come to Harry if she could stop it.  She refused to let herself consider why she felt so strongly about this that it disturbed her dreams.  She refused to consider the depths of sorrow she had felt after such dreams.  She focused on the only reason that she could let herself be comfortable with.  He had saved her sister so she owed him.

 

“Lyra,” Theodore Nott finally spoke up.

 

His voice pulled her attention completely back into the cabin and away from her dark thoughts.  She gave him a soft smile.  “Yes, Theo?” she asked of him.

 

He hesitated for a moment as though wondering if he should ask her this in so open a forum but then he chose to proceed.  “Your letters this summer said you were staying at Ivy Hall,” he began.  “Was there some great business that kept your father away?  I know that your mother despises being at Malfoy Manor when he is not there.”

 

Most in the Pure-blood circles knew that Narcissa Malfoy disliked the grand Mausoleum-esque feel of Malfoy Manor.  Narcissa had been brought up in a townhouse in Chelsea, London.  The house had been luxurious, comfortable, and warm.  A perfect place for entertaining yet still with a family feel.  Malfoy Manor was too much like a showpiece for Narcissa’s tastes.  Ivy Hall was different.  Yes, it was a manor house, but Narcissa had done much to make it feel like a home first and a place to entertain second.

 

“I’m not sure what my father was up to this summer,” she admitted to Theodore, very much aware that the other Slytherin’s in her year and even some of the older Slytherin’s were also listening.  “After the horrible events at the end of last year, my parents decided that Arya, Satyra, and I should spend the summer relaxing and studying at Ivy Hall,” she explained.  It wasn’t the complete truth of course, but she couldn’t tell them that Lucius Malfoy was responsible for the opening of the Chamber of Secrets and unleashing a monster upon the school.  She also could not explain that her mother was seeking to divorce her father and maintain her standing in society and custody of the three Malfoy girls.  Besides, the divorce was highly unlikely.  The Malfoy lawyers were vicious and cunning, they would have created a practically airtight marriage contract between Lucius Malfoy and Narcissa Black.  The Black family were probably just as willing to give Narcissa few options of escape.  Andromeda had eloped with the man she loved rather than marry the man they had contracted her to wed.  They would not have taken the same chance with Lyra’s mother.

 

“I see,” Theodore said softly.  “Then you probably have not heard the rumors yet,” he said.

 

“Theodore,” she began with a little force in her tone.  “If you have something to tell me that you really think needs my attention, then please share it,” she ordered him.

 

He nodded then and leaned a little across the table toward her and lowered his voice so that not all within the cabin could hear him.  “Your father was seen in Wizarding France with Blaise’s mother,” he said.  “He was shopping with her in the Coeur de Lion and he was footing the bill.  Also, they were seen kissing after they had finished dinning together.  It was not the casual kiss of greeting or parting.”

 

She frowned at that and felt anger surge through her at her father’s infidelity.  How dare he betray his vows to her mother?  She knew that males of the aristocracy often cheated on their spouses.  She even knew that Lucius had betrayed her mother in the past.  Narcissa was not the birth mother of Satyra, after all.  Yet she had hoped that her father had become more devoted to her mother.  Now she knew better.  Claire Zabini nee Rosier, her mother’s cousin, was a beautiful temptress.  She was also known as La Dame de Sans Merci among her generation of Slytherin children.  The woman had never had a lover that had not met some sort of mortally unfortunate accident.  Now Lucius had made her his mistress.  Claire was a great beauty to be sure, but surely the dead bodies she had left her wake should have deterred him.  Claire would seek marriage.  She would want to replace Narcissa not just in Lucius’s bed and affections but in every respect.

 

“Lyra,” Theodore’s voice held worry and she focused her gaze upon him and gave him a small smile.

 

“Thank you for telling me.  I had not yet heard the rumors and I know you wanted to see me prepared for what others might say,” she told him.  “I suppose this explains why Blaise has not yet approached me.”

 

Theodore nodded.  “Though his motivations remain unknown.  He is not bragging about his mother’s conquest of Lucius, but then he never brags about his mother’s conquests,” he said.  “I think that he worries that you will want him gone from your side because of what his mother has done.  However, Pansy thinks he is eager to become Lucius’s step-son and then he may try to replace you as the Prince.”

 

“Being Lucius’s step-child would not give him the right,” she reminded Theo.  “It’s a blood rite.  I have it, he doesn’t.  Blaise is not a fool.  He knows this.  He also knows that I have a stronger magical core than he does.  I have more raw power,” she said the last as a statement of fact, though a tiny smirk curved her lips.  It was a source of pride for her that she did have more raw magical power than even the seventh year students.  She believed that only Harry Potter had more than she did, and if he did she was only a step or so behind him.

 

Theodore smirked then.  “Yes, you do.  I think that you are the strongest witch in Hogwarts, and that counts the seventh years. 

 

“Many would think it was Granger with the way the Professor’s dote upon her,” Pansy snarked from her place beside Theodore.

 

Lyra smiled then.  Pansy absolutely hated Granger and she never lost a chance to make some sort of derogatory comment about the bushy haired Gryffindor.  It had started in first year when Pansy had mocked Neville Longbottom.  Granger had defended the boy and soon enough Pansy was calling her a buck-toothed, bushy-haired ignoramus.  Granger had taken immediate offense and had proceeded to call Pansy a pug-nosed cow.  The two girls had been enemies ever since.  Lyra had stayed out of their squabbles.  Pansy didn’t need any help standing up to Granger and she honestly thought that Granger was more than a match for Pansy.  The two girls were very much alike, as far as Lyra could tell.  If they had not gotten off to such a bad start, they might have been able to be friends.

 

‘Now that’s just ridiculous,’ she told herself.  A Slytherin and Gryffindor friends? Hadn’t the thing with Potter already taught her that it was an impossible idea.  No Gryffindor would ever trust a Slytherin.  Not after Voldemort.  Too many of the last Generation were Death Eaters.  There had been Gryffindor Death Eaters as well, but not in the vast numbers as there had been Slytherin ones.  It made it easy for the Gryffindor’s to pretend that none of their own had followed that madman.  Slytherin was synonymous with Death Eater and Evil Wizard in the eyes of the current generation of Gryffindor’s and the Lion’s always held deep grudges.

 

“Granger is a highly intelligent Witch for all of her lack of knowledge of our world due to her upbringing,” Lyra commented.  She smiled when Pansy made a scoffing sound of pure disgust.  “Also, she is Muggleborn and the Professor’s tend to dote on all Muggleborn’s.”

 

“Yes, and Granger is their Queen,” Pansy snickered.

 

Lyra couldn’t disagree with that.  She had noticed the favoritism that many of the Professor’s showed to Hermione Granger.  Oh, the girl was studious, hard-working, and intelligent.  She deserved the House Points that she won for her House.  The trouble was, Granger helped inspire laziness in her house.  More than once in classes she had seen Gryffindor students not bother to raise their hand because they knew that Granger would do so.  Lyra had also noticed that her Slytherin’s didn’t try to participate in the classes that they had with Gryffindor any longer.  There was no point when they knew that Granger would answer the question and even in the few instances where they were called upon they always received less House Points than Granger received.  Is it any wonder Severus Snape seemed biased toward his House?  There were only two Slytherin Professor’s in the whole school.  At least McGonagall was mostly fair when it came to points, but she still called too often upon Granger and half the school knew that McGonagall was subtly trying to groom the girl.  She had a vested interest in Granger that would make her biased.  Lyra had no doubt that if it came down to her word or Granger’s that McGonagall would never believe her.  She would not trust the child of Lucius Malfoy.

 

“I’ll speak with Blaise later,” she said, changing the subject from Granger.  “Slytherin needs to stand united this year more so than ever.”

 

“Because of Black?” Pansy asked.

 

Lyra nodded.  “Yes, because of Black,” she said simply and let them absorb that.  “I’ll speak about Black at the House meeting.  If it is true that he wants to harm Potter, then I want a better watch on that reckless Gryffindor,” she snapped out.  “Black will not get to him on our watch.”

 

Pansy sighed dramatically.  “Are we really going to become bodyguards to the Boy Who Lived?”

 

“No.  He’d never accept that and no one else would either,” she said.  She smirked at Pansy.  “That is also far too blatant.  I would expect it of a Gryffindor.  No.  We are Slytherin’s, our arts are subtle.”

 

Pansy smiled then.  “So, I can pick fights with Granger, but that is really just to get close to the Golden Trio to keep an eye on Potter?” she asked.

 

Lyra nodded.  “I would never order you to curtail your fights with Granger unless it were truly important,” Lyra said offhandedly.  “I know you need your hobbies and verbal sparring with Granger helps to keep your wits and your nails sharpened.”

 

Pansy laughed then.  “You aren’t wrong,” she agreed.  “It is refreshing to be able to do verbal battle with someone that has the wit and intelligence to properly fight back.  It’s a pity she’s such a do-good Gryffindor.  I might have been able to like her otherwise.”

 

Lyra didn’t let her know that she had already thought as much.  They lapsed into silence for a few moments and then there was a shudder through their compartment as the train began to screech to a halt.  Lyra gripped the table before her and frowned as the lights flickered in their cabin. 

 

“What’s going on?” she heard an older Slytherin, Marcus Flint, ask.  He was echoed by many in their compartment and children began looking out of the windows.

 

Lyra glanced at the window and gasped in alarm as it slowly began to ice over.  She thought she saw a shadowed figure just outside of the glass but it moved away.  She turned in her seat, her gaze going slowly toward the door and dread filled her.  She could see puffs of her breath in the air and felt cold to her very bones.  Then the door opened and two dark robed figures seemed to glide within the room.

 

She gasped as she recognized what they were.  Dementors! The ministry had sent Dementors unchecked onto a train full of students to search for Sirius Black.  She felt fury rise within her and she welcomed it since it kept the despair at bay.  Then she watched in horror as one of the cloaked figures approached where Satyra was seated with her friends.

 

Lyra struggled to her feet then and her wand sprang into her hand.  She knew the incantation for the spell but she had never succeeded in creating a materialized Patronus before.  It was an advanced spell, and one that Lucius would never have cared to ensure she learned. She had wondered more than once if Lucius were even capable of producing a Patronus.  None of that mattered now.  All that mattered was that the horrible soul leach was swooping down upon Satyra.

 

She stood straight and kept her wand in a firm hold.  She summoned up a memory, one of her childhood playing with her sisters and with Nymphadora.  “Expecto Patronum,” she cried and wisps silver escaped her wand.  It was not enough to repel the Dementors.

 

It did gain her the attention of one of the Dementors and it began to glide toward her.  She glared at it and then closed her eyes.  She summoned up happy memories.  When Nymphadora put her on a broom for the first time and taught her how to fly.  The feeling of the wind in her hair.  Teaching Satyra Etiquette.  Arya’s laughter as she read something amusing from a book.  The voice of Abraxas Malfoy, his rich voice as it whispered an incantation of protection over her.  The warmth of her aunt Andromeda’s hugs.  The unique scent of her mother’s perfume.  Singing and dancing in the rain at Ivy Hall, carefree for a few precious hours.  Arya and Satyra, alive and well cuddled beside her their last night at Ivy Hall before they would start school that year.  She opened her eyes then and stated firmly “Expecto Patronum!”

 

Silver wisps came out of her wand and slowly took shape into a beautiful Lioness.  The animal seemed to snarl at the Dementor that had been advancing upon her and then it attacked it, driving the Dementor away.  Then the Lioness attacked the Dementor that had approached Satyra.  It seemed to claw at the Dementor, driving it back.  The Lioness continued to prowl the compartment for several moments as though searching out anything that could be a threat.

 

The Lioness finally came to stand before her and slowly sat back on her haunches and she stared at Lyra as if awaiting instructions.  Lyra slowly raised a hand to the head of the animal as though to pet it.  It seemed to purr for a moment and then it slowly disappeared.  She stared at the spot in amazement for several seconds and then she looked up and noticed that a man she didn’t recognize stood in the doorway.  He was staring at her with a bit of awe and amazement.  She opened her mouth to address the stranger, but then the Slytherin’s and Ravenclaw’s began talking all at once.

 

“Lyra that was incredible!” Pansy exclaimed.

 

“Well done Malfoy!” cheered a Ravenclaw boy.

 

Lyra ignored them and focused on her youngest sibling.  “Satyra, are you alright?”

 

Satyra nodded though she was clearly trembling.  “Still so cold,” she managed to say.  In response two of the Ravenclaw’s situated themselves beside her and began to cuddle her.  One of the Slytherin’s got their trunk down from the overhead and dug into it until she found a throw blanket.  She swiftly draped it around Satyra.  “Here, I always bring this one with me.  It’s a little bit of home,” she said.

 

Satyra thanked her and sighed as she felt the warming charms woven into the blanket begin to help her.  The strange man came forward then and gave Satyra a bar of chocolate.  “Here, you need to eat this.  It will help,” he said.

 

Lyra watched Satyra take the chocolate bar in a shaking hand and then one of her friends took it from her to assist her in opening the wrapper so that she could have some of the chocolate.  She sighed softly, releasing the breath she wasn’t aware she had been holding.

 

“Miss, may I speak to you for a moment?” the stranger asked of her.

 

She frowned at that but a glance toward Satyra told her that her youngest sibling was well taken care of.  She shared a look with Theodore and he nodded sharply.  She then looked to the stranger.  “Yes, Sir,” she said and followed him into the hall.

 

She stared closely at the man, assessing him as she followed him further down the hall.  Thread bare clothes but of decent design.  The clothes were simply old.  They were ideal for doing hard labors in and even travel since they were worn and comfortable.  She knew her father would never be caught dead in such attire, but then Lucius was anything but humble.

 

“Where did you learn the Patronus Charm Miss?” the man finally asked of her.

 

She frowned at that.  “Malfoy, Lyra Malfoy,” she said giving him her name.  “I learned the Patronus Charm when I was young sir.  My Grandfather gave me a book that had information on the charm and the incantation within it.  Until today, I have never achieved a full maturation of the charm before.”

 

“I see,” the man returned.  “Your grandfather was Abraxas Malfoy?”

 

She nodded her head.  “Yes, the Old Dragon,” she said simply.

 

“You are Lucius’s child?” he asked.

 

“His eldest child, yes,” she informed him.

 

“I cannot imagine that Lucius Malfoy would be happy that his daughter’s Patronus was a Lioness,” he said.

 

She frowned at that.  “I cannot imagine how my father’s disappointment should be of your concern Sir,” she said.  “My Lioness saved my sister and me.  If my father cannot be happy about that then I would say his priorities need reassessing, wouldn’t you?”

 

The man chuckled at that.  “Oh, I would indeed,” he returned. “You are more like your mother than your father, I think.”

 

“You knew my parents then?  I had thought as much.  I thought you at least knew my father’s reputation,” she admitted.

 

“I knew Narcissa better than Lucius.  Both were a bit above me in school,” the man returned.  He held out his hand to her then.  “Remus Lupin.”

 

She didn’t hesitate to take the man’s hand, which seemed to both surprise and please him.  “It is nice to meet you Mr. Lupin,” she returned politely.

 

He smiled at her and then reached into his pocket and brought out a chocolate frog package.  “Here, that Dementor was very close to you,” he said.  “It will help.”

 

She smiled as she took the chocolate frog.  “It is amusing that chocolate can be such a curative to such unpleasantness,” she murmured as she opened the package and swiftly bit into the chocolate frog.  She always hated how they twitched so she went for the head first.  She really did prefer for her chocolates not to move around so much.

 

“I will be informing the Headmaster and your Head of House of your Patronus,” Lupin informed her.  “They’ll need to know what you did to help yourself and your fellow students.  Also, I imagine that your Head of House will want to cultivate your new abilities.”

 

She frowned then.  “I see,” she was not happy with the idea of Dumbledore being told of what she did, but she knew she couldn’t stop it.  “Is it true then, that Dementors shall be stationed around Hogwarts and Hogsmeade?”

 

“Yes,” Lupin told her.  “It is the belief of the Ministry that Sirius Black will come to Hogwarts in search of Harry Potter,” he told her.

 

Her hand clenched into a fist at that.  “The Dementors are just as likely to give the Kiss to Potter rather than find Black,” she snipped.  “They are a menace!”

 

“I agree, but I have less power to influence the Minister of Magic than you do,” he said.

 

She nodded.  “Hopefully then the new Defense Against the Dark Arts Professor will decide to teach all of us the Patronus Charm,” she said.

 

The man looked amused by this.  “You think he should?” he asked of her.

 

She nodded her head.  “Yes, considering that we will be surrounded by them and they didn’t hesitate to try to Kiss students on this train,” she muttered darkly.  Then she sighed.  “However, the new teacher will probably be another idiot just like the last two years,” she lamented.  “I think Dumbledore likes changing out teachers each year.  He says that the position was cursed by Voldemort, well why doesn’t he get a Curse Breaker in to try to break the Curse?”

 

Lupin frowned at her then.  “Professor Dumbledore tried to break the curse himself but he failed,” he pointed out to her.

 

“Yes, he failed. So, he’s acted like no one else could break it ever since then, but that is silly.  Dumbledore doesn’t have a Mastery in Curse Breaking,” she reminded Lupin.  “Dumbledore is a powerful Wizard and a very knowledgeable one, but he’s not a Master at Curse Breaking.  And could it really hurt that much to let a Curse Breaker or a team of them make the attempt?”

 

Lupin seemed thoughtful then.  “Perhaps you should suggest this to the Headmaster,” he stated.

 

She laughed then.  “Me?  Oh no.  He’d never listen to me.  Perhaps if Potter or Granger suggested it, but not me.  He’d never listen to the suggestion of a Malfoy or a Slytherin,” she stated simply.

 

He winced then.  “You don’t have a very good opinion of the Headmaster, do you?”

 

“I respect Headmaster Dumbledore,” she said firmly as she eyed Lupin closely.  “However, I am not a fool.  I have seen how he disregards those who were sorted into my House.  I also know that he is a political rival of my father.  He has two instincts against trusting someone like me.  I am a Malfoy and a Slytherin,” she said simply.

 

“I am sorry that you feel that way,” Lupin said with a frown.  “I hope in time the Headmaster will be able to change your mind.”

 

‘A Dumbledore follower then,’ Lyra thought of Lupin.  He seemed a nice man though, so she didn’t bother to argue with him further.  She had the feeling that hearing that Dumbledore showed favoritism toward Gryffindor would only distress him.  “I look forward to that,” she said simply.

 

The man nodded.  “You may return to your compartment now,” he said.  “But do not be surprised if you are summoned to the Headmaster’s office sometime within the first week.  He’ll want to speak with you about the incident.”

 

Lyra inclined her head in assent.  “Very well,” she agreed.  “It was pleasant speaking with you Mr. Lupin,” she said before she turned away from him and returned to her own compartment.

 

Once she entered she was pulled into a hug by Arya and then Satyra.  “Tell us everything,” they urged.  Lyra laughed at their eagerness.  Then once settled into a seat, she began to tell her sisters and the others listening in about her conversation with Mr. Remus Lupin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next Chapter: Lyra has a talk with Headmaster Dumbledore.


	8. Dumbledore

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Albus Dumbledore contemplates Lyra Malfoy

Dumbledore

 

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft & Wizardry

September 3, 1993

 

Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the Headmaster of Hogwarts stood before the window of the Headmaster’s Tower of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  To any observer, it would appear as though the headmaster were staring out the window and looking with pleasure upon the beauty of the day.  It was the first day of sunshine in three days and there was not a cloud in the sky.  The sudden lack of rain and appearance of beautiful sunshine had lifted the spirits of all who dwelled within Hogwarts hallowed halls.  The sunshine gave him no joy.  His blue eyes did not take in the beauty of the day.  There were storm clouds in his mind that troubled him far too much for him to notice the beauty of the day.

 

He could point his finger at the source of his troubled mind.  Malfoy.  Specifically, the eldest child of Lucius Malfoy.  The girl’s name was Lyra.

 

He had been surprised when Lucius’s children began attendance at Hogwarts.  He had expected any child of Lucius Malfoy to be sent to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons.  The Malfoy twins, Lyra and Arya, did move and behave as though they were taught by one of Beauxbatons finest instructors in Etiquette.  It had been a surprise when the two little girls were in the line of first years waiting to be sorted into their Houses a few years ago.  Arya had been sorted first and had shocked the staff by being sorted into Ravenclaw.  Lyra had been true to all thoughts on Malfoy’s and had sorted into Slytherin House.  A year later they were joined by their youngest sibling, Satyra, and she was sorted into Ravenclaw House.

 

He had put all thoughts of the Malfoy children out of his mind because he had expected them to be just like their nefarious father.  It had been easy enough to ignore them until Satyra Malfoy was taken into the Chamber of Secrets and Lyra Malfoy had begged the staff to save her sister.  Minerva had shared her memory of the event with him and Albus had been deeply moved and deeply troubled by the memory.  Lyra Malfoy’s faith in the school staff had been shattered that day and Albus didn’t know how they would restore her faith or if they even could. 

 

While viewing the memory, Albus was suddenly struck by how much Lyra Malfoy reminded him of her grandfather, Abraxas.  Proud and beautiful, Abraxas Malfoy had cut quite a swathe through society.  He had wielded power like he was born to it and Albus could not deny that he had been born to a power of a kind.  It was a dark power, but power nonetheless.  Abraxas had been the Prince of Slytherin during his school days and he had been like a Prince in society after his school years.  He was a superb politician and a formidable opponent.  Albus had attended his funeral, but he had not paid much attention to the little Malfoy scions who were in mourning.  His attention had been on Lucius.  Now, Albus wished that he had paid more mind to the little Malfoy darlings mourning their grandfather, because while Lucius was the heir of the Malfoy fortune and estate, Albus now suspected that it was Lyra Malfoy who was the true heir of Abraxas Malfoy. 

 

Harry Potter had been swayed by Lyra Malfoy’s tears.  He had gone down to the Chamber of Secrets and fought an artifact of dangerous dark magic and a Basilisk for the life of Satyra Malfoy.  Albus wished that it had been for Satyra Malfoy that the boy had chosen to risk his life.  Satyra seemed a kind girl, for a Malfoy.  She was not his ideal match for Harry, but he would prefer it to Lyra Malfoy.  Albus knew that it was already a lost cause though.  The dye was cast.  He had watched James Potter succumb to the symptoms of longing for and attempting to please his soul-mate, Lily Evans.  He had watched Harry’s grandfather, Fleamont Potter, do the same for his soul-mate, Euphemia.  Now Harry was doing the same regarding Lyra Malfoy.  He could still remember Harry’s confession.

 

_“She was hurting.  I just knew that if I didn’t go and save Satyra that Lyra would cry forever,”_ Harry had said.

 

Albus closed his eyes.  He had spent the summer trying to figure out how to manipulate the Malfoy family to his advantage.  Lyra was Harry’s soul-mate and so he needed to maneuver the Malfoy’s into a position that would give Harry what he needed.  He had not had any luck figuring out a way yet, but he had been sure that observing the Malfoy girls would give him an answer this year.  He had not expected the revelation that Remus had given him.

 

He had argued against Dementors being allowed on the Hogwarts Express.  There were children on the train, and underage children should not have to be exposed to those horrors, but he had been overruled and so the Dementors had been allowed to search the train.  He had asked for Lupin to be on the train for that reason.  Remus was skilled at Charms and Defense and would be able to assist the children.  Albus had consoled himself that several of the underage children had enough raw magical power to perform a Patronus Charm. Of course, that would not have helped them if they had never read about the charm, as was the case with Harry.  Albus had not expected to learn that Lyra Malfoy had performed a fully formed Patronus.

 

Remus had shown him the memory of Lyra Malfoy standing in a compartment on the train, wand in hand and the beautiful Lioness that had battled the two Dementor’s that had entered her cabin.  The Lioness had been truly beautiful and at first, Albus had not wanted to believe that it was Lyra who had cast the charm.  Yet his doubts were swiftly put to rest when he recognized the protectiveness of the Lioness toward Lyra specifically. 

 

A Lioness.  Protective of those she saw as her own.  Fierce against all perceived enemies.  Cunning and resourceful. 

 

Her Patronus revealed a great deal about Lyra Malfoy.  He wondered if the sorting hat had considered placing this child in Gryffindor.  He knew better than to ask the Sorting Hat.  He never revealed the secrets of the sorting.  The hat never told him the secrets he had learned from the heads of the children.  More was the pity.  He could use such counsel now.  He didn’t know how to maneuver Lyra Malfoy where he now wanted her.  He had looked over Lyra’s school record and had found no complaints from the Professor’s about her.  Her scores were high.  She was a bright student and within the top five percent of the students for her year.  In fact, Lyra Malfoy had beaten out Minerva’s favorite, Hermione Granger, in quite the number of their classes.  He had expected a Malfoy child to come to school with knowledge of magic, but he had not expected one to excel in the way that Lyra, Arya, and Satyra Malfoy were doing.  All three girls were superb academics.

 

A clear chime echoed through his mind, bringing him away from his contemplations.  The chime was a handy little spell that he had cast long ago on the Gargoyle that guarded the Headmaster’s Office.  It alerted him to when someone had been let past the Gargoyle to come up into his office.  Minerva always wondered just how it was that he knew she was coming up.  He liked to tease her that he could hear her stomping because she rarely visited him unless she was angry.  It always made her bristle reminding him of her Animagus form.  Perhaps someday he would be kind and tell her the truth.

 

He had just crossed the room away from the window and to his desk when the knock sounded at the door.  With a wave of his wand, the door opened revealing Lyra Malfoy.

 

“Ah, Miss Malfoy, please do come in,” Albus said in a jovial tone of voice.

 

She inclined her head in acknowledgment and entered the office.  He watched as her eyes swept through the room, her gaze lingering for a few moments over many of the more interesting objects in his room.  He inclined his head, waving a hand toward one of the seats before his desk.  “Please have a seat, my dear girl,” he invited.  He observed her as she gracefully settled herself into the chair.  If she felt the truth monitor that was cast upon the chair that she was seated in then she gave no sign that she noticed.  This made Albus relax slightly. 

 

Truth monitors were ancient magical devices that were often embedded into random everyday objects, such as the chair Lyra Malfoy was now seated in.  The object could not force her to tell only the truth like a truth serum could, but it would subtly tell someone else if she were lying.  He had been sure that the more flamboyant Malfoy’s would not utilize the more subtle magics such as a truth monitor in order to gain truths from others.  Surely Lucius’s way was to bribe and interrogate.

 

The girl sat before him with her hands in her lap, her legs crossed at the ankle and sitting with her back perfectly straight while still looking somehow relaxed.  It was perfect etiquette that made her seem like a princess looking over her court.  ‘One of the Malfoy Princesses,’ Albus thought as he stared at her.  The girl was silent, not showing any sign of distress at his silence.  He was far more used to dealing with Gryffindor students who would have already spoken, asking him why he had wished to see them.  Lyra Malfoy was a Slytherin, she would not give him that much power.

 

“I am sure you are wondering why I called you here,” Albus began after several moments more of staring at her.  She resembled her beautiful mother but she was less golden than Narcissa Malfoy.  She was all moonlight with silvery-blonde hair and eyes like silver moonlight.  She was more a Malfoy in her coloring, but she had Narcissa’s beautiful and delicate features.  She would be a breathtaking beauty in another year, he was sure of it.

 

She merely inclined her head, her face showing a polite curiosity.

 

“Professor Lupin informed me of what happened on the train,” Albus explained.  “Please tell me, how are the Slytherin students fairing?”

 

There was a slight meeting of eyes then but not enough for him to use Legilimency to glean her surface thoughts.  “The Slytherin students are frightened,” she said after a moment.  “The Ravenclaw students are also frightened.  I am not sure if Professor Lupin informed you that there were Ravenclaw students in our compartment as well,” she said in a gentle off-handed manner.  “Arya tells me that the Ravenclaw students have been searching the library for all information on Dementor’s and on the Patronus Charm.”

 

“It was unfortunate that the Dementor’s had to search the train,” Albus said, allowing his regret that he could not stop the Minister’s decision to flow into his voice.

 

“It was foolish and never should have happened the way it did,” she told him.

 

Albus smiled at this.  “How should it have been done, dear girl?”

 

She seemed to startle slightly at his endearment but she didn’t let it deter her.  “Auror’s should have searched the train, preferably without the Dementor’s presence.  If the Minister had to insist on the Dementor’s searching the train then there should have been enough accomplished Auror’s who could perform the Patronus Charm there to keep them from harming any of the students,” Lyra said decisively.  “My little sister was nearly kissed and I have heard rumors that Harry Potter of Gryffindor House and Susan Bones of Hufflepuff House were likewise almost kissed by those creatures.”

 

“Yes, Miss Bones was most fortunate that a seventh year Ravenclaw student who could perform the Patronus Charm was in the compartment across from her and came to her aid when her friends screamed for help,” Albus said.  “Our Mr. Potter was fortunate that Professor Lupin had been riding in his compartment and saved him.  And your own compartment was fortunate to have had you,” Albus pronounced.  “Was that truly the first time you had performed a fully-fledged Patronus Charm?” he asked.

 

“Yes, it was,” she said simply.  “I have for some time been able to produce the silvery mist, but I could not get it to take full shape until just a few days ago on the train.”

 

“Extraordinary,” Albus praised her because it truly was.  He had not thought a child born of one of the darkest families in Britain could ever perform such a spell of truly light magic.  For her to have done it under duress at the age of thirteen proved that she was already a formidable young witch.  He sat back in his chair, watching her intently.  “May I ask what memory you used to produce such a powerful charm?” he asked of her.  “Forgive me my curiosity my dear girl, but it is rare for one so young to be able to produce the charm.”

 

She smiled slightly then at his praise and he wondered if she were truly flattered or if she were merely dissembling.  “It was a series of memories since one memory alone was not strong enough,” she revealed.  “I thought of happy memories with my siblings, with my grandfather, and with my mother,” she told him. 

 

She looked into his eyes then and he saw it.  At the forefront of her mind, he saw what amounted to a collide scope of memories.  He saw Abraxas Malfoy holding her on his lap and whispering words of love and power into her ears.  He saw a child he recognized as Nymphadora Tonks holding her close as she took her up for a flight on a broom.  He saw Lyra, Arya, Satyra, and Narcissa Malfoy dancing in the rain, twirling around and singing as though they had not a care in the world. 

 

He was surprised by the memories.  He would never have pictured Abraxas so loving with his granddaughters.  The man had put up an image of having been delighted with his granddaughters, but everyone had believed it to be just an illusion.  Everyone had believed that he was probably cruel to them behind closed doors, taking out his bitterness upon them that they were females instead of males.  Lyra’s memory of her grandsire disproved the theory that Abraxas had been a cruel taskmaster to his granddaughters.

 

The memory of Nymphadora Tonks surprised him as well.  He was not aware that the Tonks family was in anyway close to the Malfoy family.  Yet the memory showed the infamous gardens of Malfoy Manor was where young Nymphadora had taken a young Lyra Malfoy flying on a broom.  He was assuming that it was Lyra’s first time on a broom.

 

He was more surprised by the memory of Lyra, her sisters, and her mother dancing and singing in the rain.  The Narcissa Malfoy he knew was a socialite who was always perfectly behaved.  He had not thought her capable of this kind of passion and simple joy.  He had not thought that she would let her teenage daughters dance in the rain let alone join them in their sport.

 

“Tell me dear girl, where did you learn about the Patronus Charm?” he asked of her.

 

“I first read about it in a book.  I asked mother about it and she explained the spell to me.  Then my cousin, Dora, learned how to produce the charm while she was in the Auror Academy.  It really pleased her instructors, who before that were treating her rather harshly,” Lyra told him.  “Dora said that it was a good idea to study the charm and try to learn how to do it because it could protect me from dark creatures such as Lethifolds and Dementors.  I so added it to the charms that I should study.”

 

“I see,” he said and somehow, he did.  It seemed to him that the girl had a fondness for her maternal cousin.  He had never once, in all of Nymphadora Tonks years as a student at Hogwarts, suspected that she was close to her Malfoy cousins.  He had not thought to look into the matter.  He had assumed that the two Black sisters must be estranged because Andromeda had married a Muggle-born Wizard while Narcissa had married a man known to all as a Muggle-hater.  It seemed that the affection between Andromeda and Narcissa had not been broken after all.  How very fascinating.  He made a mental reminder to himself to seek out Alastor Moody for a chat about his current students at the Auror Academy.  Perhaps he could learn a bit more about what sort of asset Nymphadora Tonks might make to his future endeavors.

 

“I have awarded thirty points to Slytherin due to your actions on the train, my girl,” he told her, expecting to see her happy.

 

She stared at him for a moment and he gleaned consternation from her mind.  It was surprising, to say the least.  “Have you awarded any points to Ravenclaw for the saving of Susan Bones?” she asked of him then.  “And what about Gryffindor and Hufflepuff Houses?  The older students from those houses went around the train giving out chocolates to soothe the frightened students and many of the older students sat with the younger kids through the rest of the trip, just in case the Dementors came back.”

 

Albus was stunned by this.  He had not been informed that the older students had gone around the train to reassure the students.  “I was not made aware of this, my dear girl.  I am glad that I have had this talk with you.  Of course, Hufflepuff, Gryffindor, Slytherin, and Ravenclaw all deserve House Points for their actions.”

 

He was surprised when he could find no happiness about this in her surface thoughts.  There was turmoil there.  Distrust and disappointment.  Was she disappointed that he had not known in full the events that took place on the train?  It was tempting to delve into her mind, but then she would know.  She was a pure-blood heiress who would be of age for courtship in just a year, surely her family had begun her studies in guarding her thoughts.  She would sense his intrusion if he tried to delve into her mind.

 

“Sir,” she said softly.  “It is very good of you to award all of the Houses points to show your appreciation of how we looked after each other, but,” she paused then and looked down at her hands.  “That for a moment on that train Slytherin’s and Gryffindor’s were not trying to hurt each other.  Ravenclaw’s were not sneering that they knew more than the other Houses and Hufflepuff was not made to somehow feel inferior to everyone else for their quiet confidence and diligence,” she looked into his eyes once more.  “That is greater than winning the House Cup.”

 

Albus slowly smiled at her, his blue eyes twinkling as he let himself take in her words and the earnest expression that had transformed her face.  Yes, this girl was not Lucius’s creature.  She was the true heir of the Old Dragon, as Abraxas had been called in his final years.  She would disarm her enemies because they were expecting her to be either a vapid socialite who could only speak about the latest fashions or a nasty brat, spoilt by her proud and arrogant father.  She was neither.  She was clearly a faithful student of her grandfather and she was a beautiful delicate beauty.  She would have men quaking in their boots in a few more years. 

 

Soul-mate or not, Albus was beginning to see how it could be that Harry Potter would fall in love with this girl.  That she was a Lioness comforted Albus slightly.  If she could come to love Harry, come to value him as her own, then she would use all that she was for Harry’s betterment.  She would not easily be manipulated into Harry’s arms though.  This was clear enough to Albus now.  She was not an easy mark for such romantic manipulations.  She was too self-possessed to be manipulated in that way.  However, there was still hope.  She had shown honor of the Old Ways when Harry had saved Satyra Malfoy months ago.  She had insisted that her own father acknowledge and honor the fact that the Malfoy family owed Harry a life-debt.  Perhaps that was the key to giving Harry his Soul-mate.  He would have to do more research.  He had many things to consider.

 

“I am very proud of how all of you chose to assist each other on the train,” Albus told her gently, his voice full of true warmth.  It truly did please him to hear her words and imagine the students trying to protect each other.  All four houses united in a common goal.  It was a beautiful image.  Were they too divided?  He had to admit, albeit ruefully, that he rarely gave the Slytherin’s a thought unless a Slytherin student was brought before him for punishment.  Had he been too neglectful of Slytherin House?  Were there other students in that House that were from dark families that were of the same caliber of Lyra Malfoy?  He had much to consider.

 

“Thank you, my dear girl,” he said as he slowly arose.  She likewise arose from the chair.  “for indulging my curiosity and more for sharing your thoughts with me,” he told her sincerely.  “You have given me a great deal to think about.  I hope that we may have a chat again sometime in the future.”

 

Lyra gave him a soft smile, a slight upturn of her lips.  “It would be my pleasure, Headmaster,” she said politely.  It left him feeling hopeful that one day she would address him with a warm tone instead of the unerringly polite tone.

 

He walked with her to the door and watched her go down the winding staircase.  He felt the tingle that allowed him to know that she had departed away from the Gargoyle Guardian of his office.  He went back to the window then and stared out upon the grounds of Hogwarts.  This time his eyes took in the bright sunshine, the way the leaves on the trees were beginning to change colors. The silvery-gray water of the Black Lake.  The children in various states of relaxation and play.  A slow smile curved his lips as he took in his children enjoying the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am really ashamed of how long it has taken me to post this chapter. I had it completed then in the edit I tore it to pieces, killed it, and felt no remorse about doing so. It just was not worth sharing. So I started over again and now I am finally pleased with the result and can share it with you. I hope that you enjoy it. Next Chapter: Boggart. It should be up soon.


	9. Boggart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Lupin introduces the children to a Boggart

Boggart

 

Lyra smiled as she and her companions approached the corridor that held their Defense Classroom.  For the first time in her Hogwarts experience, she found herself enjoying the Defense Against the Dark Arts class.  It was amazing what a competent instructor in that class could do.  She liked Professor Lupin, the man that she had met on the train.  He seemed a very nice man, and he was a good teacher.  He tried to make the class fun for them and he didn’t make them feel inferior.  She had been slightly disappointed when her God-father had warned her that Mr. Remus Lupin was a Gryffindor, but so far, the man had not shown a bias against her House.  She hoped it would stay that way.  He was well-respected now by her Slytherins.  It would be a pity if he were to put a step wrong with any of her Snakes.

 

She frowned in confusion when she entered the classroom.  The usual desks were missing.  She looked to the front of the room where Professor Lupin stood beside a bureau and her mind whirled.  So, it was to be a day of practical application.  She wondered what they were to fight against.  Whatever it was must be in the bureau.

 

She and the Slytherin’s stood off to one side of the room while the Gryffindor’s made their way to the other side.  It felt somehow like a line was drawn between them.  It felt wrong to Lyra, but she didn’t know how to bridge that gap.  Theodore came to stand beside her and his proximity was a comfort in this strange new situation.  Theodore was her unofficial Knight.  He shielded her identity as the Prince of Slytherin from the rest of the School.  It was rarely necessary though since the rest of the school didn’t seem to play by the Old Ways, or at least the Gryffindor’s didn’t.  Hufflepuff still did.  She knew that Susan Bones was Hufflepuff’s Prince, but Ernest Macmillan was the one she should acknowledge publicly to protect Susan.  Just as her Slytherin’s publicly acknowledge Theodore to protect her.  The Ravenclaw Prince was Michael Corner and he could be acknowledged publicly, but so far, she had not done it.  There had not yet been a formal meeting of the Prince’s.  With the fear created by the Dementors searching for Sirius Black, perhaps it was the time she considered it.

 

“Alright Class, welcome.  Today, as I am sure you have noticed, we will be doing practical defense spells.  Now, please put your books and bags aside, you’ll just need your wands today,” Remus Lupin began the class.

 

Once the students had obeyed Lupin smiled.  “Now, who can tell me what a Boggart is?”

 

Lyra felt Pansy flinch behind her and the girl grabbed at the back of Lyra’s school robes.  It was a sure sign of distress coming from the Parkinson Heiress.  She tuned out the droning textbook answer that Hermione Granger gave to the Professor and instead focused on her Slytherins.  Pansy’s eyes held fear.  Millicent’s held anger.  Tracey looked frightened.  Daphne’s eyes held a steely sharp anger.  Gregory looked frightened.  Vincent looked frightened as well.  Blaise was attempting to look unruffled but when his eyes met hers she could see that he was unwilling to air his fears in front of those he didn’t trust.

 

That was the crux of the matter, wasn’t it?  It was bad enough to face your fear, but to do so in front of people that you didn’t trust?  No!  It was unacceptable.  She looked at Theodore and was pleased to see him looking over the Slytherins as well.  He looked at her then and they maintained eye contact for several moments.  His eyes widened when he finally realized what she needed him to do.  She nodded then, pleased that he had caught on so quickly.

 

“Lyra, are you sure?” his voice asked gently, softly.

 

“Yes,” she answered feeling Pansy vibrating with fear as they were ordered to get into line.  The Gryffindors rushed to be first, so the Slytherins were left at the back of the line.  They stood there in line, staring at each other for several moments even as the Gryffindors began to face the Boggart.  Such silly fears the Lions had.  Parvati Patil was afraid of a Snake.  Ronald Weasley was afraid of a Spider.  At least Neville Longbottom was afraid of something worthy of fear.  Her God-father, Severus Snape, was a truly formidable Wizard.  Though she doubted that Neville had a clue as to that.  He just feared Snape sneering at him in Potions class.  Potter’s Boggart was fascinating and worthy of fear.  It was a Dementor and she swiftly understood the symbolism.  Potter was afraid to fail.  Hidden inside the Boy Who Lived was a fear to fail and that meant there was also a drive to succeed.  It was interesting, fascinating, and she wished that she had not learned one more thing about Harry Potter to add to the growing list of things to like about him.

 

“Well now that Gryffindor has had a turn,” Professor Lupin announced.  “Let’s give Slytherin House time to have some fun,” Lupin announced.

 

“I’m afraid that we can’t do that Professor Lupin,” Theodore spoke up.  He was careful to keep his tone very respectful, for which Lyra was grateful.  “Slytherin House will not be participating in this classroom exercise.”

 

Lyra felt the agitation of the Gryffindor’s immediately.  Confusion and fury seemed to vibrate through them.  Hermione Granger was watching Theodore Nott curiously, wondering why he was speaking on behalf of all the Slytherin’s in the room.  Harry Potter was looking from Theodore to her, his green eyes narrowed upon where her hand rested on Theodore’s right wrist.  It wasn’t his wand arm.  He was left-handed the same as she, but she didn’t think that Potter knew that.  Ronald Weasley was sneering at them, but Lyra could ignore that easily.  He was always sneering at her and the other Slytherin students.

 

“Mr. Nott, I’m afraid that is not your decision to make,” Professor Lupin stated firmly.  He was clearly flummoxed by the situation but trying to assert his control over the class.

 

Lyra gently stroked the inside of Theo’s wrist, a warning to remain polite but firm in their resolve.

 

“It is by the Will of the Slytherin Prince that Slytherin House shall not participate in a class on Boggarts,” Theodore said briskly.

 

She felt the other Slytherins behind her lose the tension that they had been carrying since Lupin announced they would face a Boggart.  Pansy no longer trembled behind her and had finally released the tight hold she had held on Lyra’s robes. 

 

“Slytherin Prince?” Hermione Granger questioned.

 

A simple soft pressing of her thumb to Theo’s wrist warned him to say nothing to Granger.  The girl was annoying but impressive in her research skills.  She was sure that Granger could go to the library and learn about House Hierarchy on her own.  They didn’t need to give her anything else to help her along.  It was bad enough they had been put in this situation of having to acknowledge that they adhered to the ancient Hierarchy in front of the Lions. 

 

Lyra kept her eyes trained on Professor Lupin who was frowning at Theodore.  She released Theodore’s wrist, trusting that he no longer needed any of her guidance.  Instead, she turned to the other Slytherins.  “You heard the Prince’s Decree,” she said and a soft smirk curved her lips.  The others smirked back, happiness shone in their eyes.  “Gather your belongings, this class is over for us,” she ordered.  It would make Granger think that she was perhaps the second of the Prince of Slytherin.  She was counting on Granger’s more modern concepts to keep her identity safe when the Know it all did her research.  She was sure that Granger would put some of it together, it was only a matter of time now that a curious bit of intrigue had been dangled before the nosy little Lioness.

 

“Now wait just a minute,” Professor Lupin protested.

 

Lyra ignored him and gathered her school bag along with the other students.  It was a horrible use of power proclaiming that they would not participate.  She hated doing it.  She truly did, because she liked Lupin.  Also, she could acknowledge that they needed to learn this spell.  Needed to face the fear that a Boggart would try to use against them.  Still, she couldn’t condone doing it in front of other students who had treated them like criminals since they had been sorted into Slytherin House.  She could not countenance putting Pansy through facing her worst fear in front of people that regularly mocked her and cared nothing about the emotional scars that they left on her.  She couldn’t countenance making Theodore look upon his mother’s dead and broken body again before these people.  She just couldn’t make Gregory watch his father murder his favorite pet again.  She couldn’t do it.  She just couldn’t and wouldn’t give the Lions that kind of power against them.  Not when they constantly snarled at them and told them that they were Death Eaters in training.  No!

 

“The Prince of Slytherin has spoken,” Lyra said in a firm tone.

 

“So Mote It Be!” her fellow Slytherins declared, their voices strong and sure.

 

Theodore extended his arm to her and she took it, grateful for his escort, grateful for his shelter from the eyes of the Gryffindor’s.  Each of the male Slytherin’s offered an arm to the other ladies.  Greg offered his escort to Tracey, Blaise chose to escort Daphne and Pansy both, while Vincent escorted Millicent.  With heads held high, the made their way out of the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom.  They were silent as they strode with confidence down the corridors.  None of them spoke, but there was a bubbling tension within each of them.  By silent agreement, they made their way down into the dungeons and then into the safety of Slytherin House.

 

“That was mad!” Tracey exclaimed and a hysterical giggle burst from her lips.

 

“Completely,” Daphne agreed, more subdued but she was smiling.

 

“We are going to be in so much trouble,” groaned Gregory.

 

Lyra smirked.  “Perhaps,” she said enigmatically.  Professor Snape despised Professor Lupin.  This would work in their favor.  She was also positive that Severus would not stand for the idea of their fears being aired before children that consistently treated them like vermin.  No, her God-father would not stand for that.  He was protective of his little Snakes.  They might be forced to make up the work though.  Perhaps she should even volunteer them for that?  A class on Boggarts without the presence of Gryffindor House?

 

“I think we should tell Professor Snape that we are willing to make up the work.  We aren’t against facing the Boggart, but we would not do it in front of the Lions,” she declared.

 

Pansy shook her head then but the others were nodding in agreement.  Lyra watched as Greg settled beside Pansy and pulled her gently into his side, letting her rest against him.  He ran his hand over her shoulder in a soothing manner.  He whispered softly to her, trying to reassure her.  He had come a long way from the overweight boy he had been just two years ago at the Sorting Feast.  Years of careful diet and rigorous exercise had trimmed him down into a healthy and muscled figure.  He had the build of a Quidditch Beater.  Sturdy, strong, and capable of lethal damage.  She was proud of how he had taken her order to get himself into shape so seriously.

 

“Alright,” Pansy finally relented after a few minutes of letting Gregory coax her.

 

Lyra smiled then.  “It’ll just be us and the Professor there, Pansy, otherwise we don’t do it,” she insisted.  “Agreed?”

 

There were murmurs of consent from all of them and she went to her chair, the high-backed chair before the fireplace that she had claimed as hers back in her first year.  She sank down into the chair and sighed.  “Professor Snape is going to be quite angry,” she admitted softly.  “He’ll not disagree with our reasoning, but the situation alone will infuriate him.”

 

Blaise snickered.  “True, but it’s done now so there is no sense in dwelling on it.  It’s too late to change our minds,” he said.

 

“Quite right,” Lyra agreed.  “Forward then.  We’ll offer to make up the work if Professor Lupin is amenable, but it cannot be done with the Gryffindor’s,” she saw relief from the others and felt a weight lift from her shoulders.  She had been right to protect them this way.  The Gryffindor children would have just used their fears against them.  She frowned at that thought.  “I also decree that we do not ever mention what we saw in that classroom.  In no altercation with a Gryffindor are any of you to bring up the fears that we witnessed today.”

 

Vincent groaned.  “Come off it,” he protested.  “At least Weasley deserves to be taunted.  He’s the worst of that lot.  The Gryffindor’s might even be somewhat tolerable if it were not for him, Granger, and Potter sneering down at us.”

 

There were nods and murmurs of agreement about that last part from her other Snakes.

 

“I actually liked Parvati before she sorted into Gryffindor.  My father does business with the Patil family.  I am still on good terms with Padma, but Parvati has bought into a lot of that nonsense that we are Death Eaters in training that Weasley likes to spit out,” Pansy said sadly.

 

Daphne nodded.  “My family and the Brown family have been friends for a long time.  I grew up with Lavender.  Despite being sorted into Gryffindor she and I are still friends.  During our first year she was given a lot of grief for associating with me, so now we don’t spend as much time together at school, even with having classes together.  We write letters back and forth and send them by Owl,” she confessed.  “We made up names for each other.  If I write to Lavender then I don’t sign my name as Daphne.  When she writes to me, she doesn’t sign her name as Lavender.”

 

Lyra felt her heartache as she listened to her friends speak of their old friendships and what the stupid house rivalry had done to it.  But it wasn’t just stupid house rivalry, was it?  It was more.  Always ‘Death Eaters.’ They were called Death Eaters because they had sorted into Slytherin.  Lyra could understand that in the case of herself, who had a father who bore the Dark Mark, but the Greengrass family had never associated with the Dark Lord.  Nor had the Davis family.  Tracey was the first Davis in three generations to sort into Slytherin House.  If she had sorted into Gryffindor, she doubted that Ronald Weasley would even think to call the girl a Death Eater. 

 

She didn’t know how to fix it.  She didn’t know how to make any of it stop.  She wished that she did wish that she knew of a way to make the Gryffindor’s stop looking at them like they were faithful followers of He Who Must Not Be Named, but she didn’t know how to do it.  Maybe they would be too stubborn anyway.  She really could not waste her time with the Gryffindor’s anyway.  There were more important things to deal with.  With the rumors that Harry Potter had faced the Dark Lord again at the end of their first year, Lyra was sure that Voldemort would find some way to return.  The Death Eaters who had escaped imprisonment in Azkaban had always suspected such.  She would not let Voldemort mark her Slytherins.  The older years might be a lost cause, she had to admit, but not her age group and not those younger than her.  She could save as many as she could.

 

* * *

 

 

Harry stared without seeing at the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room.  It was just a few hours past dinner and he was mulling over the strange events of the day.  DADA class had started off as any other class.  It was fun to be able to get up and do a practical application of the spells they were learning.  Professor Lupin was a breath of fresh air, especially in comparison to their previous DADA teacher.  Professor Lupin really knew what he was doing, and he made teaching them fun.  Even the Slytherin students had seemed to like and respect him.  Maybe that was why Harry felt so confused about what had happened in class that afternoon.

 

The Slytherin’s had chosen not to participate.  Theodore Nott had spoken for all the Slytherin’s and claimed that the ‘Prince of Slytherin’ commanded that they not participate.  Lyra Malfoy had stood just behind Nott, her hand on his wrist.  Harry had felt a deep anger take hold of him as he watched her caress the other boy’s wrist.  Was Nott her boyfriend?  He had wanted to step forward and grab her, pull her away from the other boy.  He didn’t understand the feeling of possessiveness that had swept through him, but it had startled him, scared him a bit and so he had stayed still and silently watched as Lyra backed up the words of Theodore Nott.  He had watched her imperiously order the other Slytherin’s and they had jumped to obey her.  It was strange and beautiful.  She had looked both haughty and adorable as she had let Theodore Nott escort her from the room.  Harry had wanted to tear him limb from limb.  He had never felt anything like that before.

 

By dinner time everyone in the school was talking about how the Slytherin’s have departed from DADA without participating.  They were also discussing the argument that had ensued between Professors Lupin and Snape.  Professor Snape had, apparently, degraded Professor Lupin’s morals and common sense.  He had stated firmly that none of the students, not even the Gryffindor’s, should have been forced to air their fears before another student.  Harry hated that he agreed with Snape.  He had already been teased relentlessly by Seamus since DADA.  Neville had likewise been mercilessly teased by the Irishman for his own Boggart turning into Professor Snape.  Rumors of both of their Boggart’s had circled around the school, but the rumors about the Slytherin’s had been far more interesting to the student body. 

 

Harry felt grateful for that.  He already hated the student body’s preoccupation with his life.  He had already experienced two years of it and he was becoming quite jaded to the opinions of those around him.  There were few that he trusted, and he couldn’t honestly say that he really trusted those closest to him.  The events of the summer had made him begin to see things in a slightly different light.

 

It had started when he had used accidental magic upon his uncle’s sister, Marge Dursley.  He had fled from Privet Drive and had ended up on the Knight Bus headed to the Leaky Cauldron.  There he was met by the Minister of Magic himself, Mr. Cornelius Fudge.  The man was a slimy politician.  He had been overly friendly to Harry and though Harry had appreciated it at the time because he was relieved that he would not be getting in trouble for using accidental magic, in the days that followed he realized that the slimy political figure had just wanted an excuse to ingratiate himself to Harry because he was ‘The Boy Who Lived.’  Whether Harry liked it or not, he was put on a pedestal.  He was a person of interest and he could be used by others to gain popularity, to gain power.  These thoughts had changed the way he viewed everyone around him.

 

Ron had wanted to see his scar, had wanted the proof that he was Harry Potter.  Would Ron Weasley have treated him differently, been less friendly, if he had been just a normal Muggle-raised Wizard?  Ron sure didn’t seem to think much of Justin Finch-Fletchley, the Muggle-born Wizard in their year that was in Hufflepuff House.  He also didn’t care much for Dean Thomas who was a Muggle-born and fellow Gryffindor.  Harry didn’t want to leap to conclusions, but the seed out doubt was now there, and it made him more speculative about his relationship with his best friend. 

 

Then there was Hermione.  She had befriended Neville on the train.  She had gone door to door trying to help him find his toad, Trevor.  Why then didn’t she continue to hang out with Neville?  Neville was certainly receptive to her friendship.  Instead, Hermione had done things, pushed to become closer to Harry and Ron.  She had been dogged and persistent.  She had known far more about Harry’s parents than Harry did, and Ron was right when he said it was creepy.  Hermione had read books about his life, books that he was sure were packed full of lies, but there must have been some truth about some of the things said about his parents.  She had read them in preparation of meeting him because he was a famous boy in her year group.  Harry wasn’t sure what made him feel worse, the idea that she had tried to be his friend because he was famous or the knowledge that she had befriended Neville and then had all but abandoned him to be Harry’s friend.

 

He wasn’t sure that any of his suppositions were correct.  What he did know for certain was that he didn’t dare to blindly trust either of them the way that he had for the last two years.  He had a problem with the way that Ron sneered at the Slytherin students.  Sometimes, he still had bad dreams about that day on the Hogwarts Express when he had stared at Lyra Malfoy’s reflection in the window as he let Ron Weasley say mean things to her.  She had been in tears and she had whispered his name, imploring him, asking him a question and he had done nothing.  He was so ashamed of how he had done nothing at all.  Last year he had saved Satyra Malfoy’s life because he couldn’t stand by and do nothing.  He couldn’t let Lyra cry again.  He needed to do something, atone somehow for how he had spent two years going along with Ron when he said awful things toward her. 

 

He couldn’t go along with Ron any longer.  He also couldn’t rely on Hermione’s brilliance for help any longer.  He had seen proof twice that Voldemort was still alive, and he would keep trying to kill him.  He needed to study hard, work hard, and figure out who he could trust and who he couldn’t.  This was his life and it wasn’t a game.  If he didn’t prepare himself then Voldemort was going to win.  He didn’t want to let him win.

 

He was startled out of his reverie as a book slammed down on the side table beside the comfy couch he was seated upon.  He glanced toward his left, startled to see Hermione there frowning at the book.  For a girl who enjoyed books so much, she didn’t seem to mind using them as weapons when she was annoyed.  Just that morning at breakfast she had used her Charms book to beat Ron for some sort of careless insult that the red-haired boy had delivered. 

 

“I spent the whole evening in the library and I found very little to help me figure out just who ‘The Prince of Slytherin’ is,” Hermione complained.

 

Harry blinked in confusion and then frowned at her.  “I thought that it was Theodore Nott,” he told her.

 

Hermione nodded.  “Yes, I thought so too, but then I realized that he might be a front man,” she admitted.  “Slytherin’s are sneaky.”

 

Harry frowned at that but didn’t deny that they were sneaky.  “Alright, so who do you think it is?” he asked.

 

“I don’t know,” she said with a sigh of frustration.  “I did find several references to House Hierarchy.  Apparently, all the Houses were once ruled over by a Prince.  This was before the current system of Prefects.  They basically did the job of a Prefect.  Taking care of the other students and being a go-between for them with their Head of House.”

 

He nodded as he mulled over the information Hermione had learned.  “It figures that Slytherin would keep the tradition while the other houses let it fade away.  Their house keeps to old traditions,” he murmured thoughtfully.

 

Hermione nodded.  “Though I now wonder if the other houses really let it fade.  Slytherin hid it, but they didn’t let it fade.  Also, by what I have seen today and the rumors that I have heard, the Slytherin Prefects answer to their Prince.  They hid it and today something happened in DADA class to make their Prince decide to reveal his existence.”

 

“Still on about that then?” Ron asked as he joined them on the sofa.

 

“Yes,” Hermione stated bluntly, shooting a glare at Ron.  “It is fascinating, and it could prove useful for us in the future.  Remember what we went through last year trying to figure out what the Slytherin’s knew about the Heir.  If we had known about this House Hierarchy and how the Slytherin’s still adhered to it, then things might have been easier.”

 

Ron grimaced but nodded.  “Know the enemy and all that,” he said with a wave of his hand.  “Alright, so who is the Prince of Slytherin?”

 

She sighed in frustration.  “I don’t know,” she admitted.

 

“Of course, you do,” Ron said.  “It’s Nott.  Everyone saw him stand up all imperious and telling Professor Lupin that he didn’t want the Slytherin’s to take part in the class.”

 

She shook her head in the negative.  “I saw it, but that doesn’t mean that it’s Nott,” she insisted.

 

“So, what, you think it was some conspiracy and the Prince told him beforehand to do that?” Ron asked.  “That doesn’t make sense.  He would have had to know Professor Lupin’s lesson plan.  None of us were aware that he would be doing a practice that day. We were expecting a lecture.”

 

“Ron’s right,” Harry said and then held up his hand when Hermione began to protest.  “He’s right that the Slytherin’s would not have known about Professor Lupin’s change of plan.”

 

She subsided at that.  “The Prince has to be among those Slytherin’s then,” she said thoughtfully.  “So, it’s either Nott, Crabbe, Goyle, or Zabini.”

 

Ron nodded.  “It is Nott.  Must be.  Crabbe and Goyle are idiots.  Just muscle,” he grimaced at that and Harry knew why.  Ron had liked it when Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle had just been fat idiots.  Now the Gregory Goyle had lost a lot of weight and had beefed up the muscle.  Rumor had it that Goyle was going to try out to be a beater as soon as the Slytherin team had an opening.  Vincent Crabbe was still a bit chubby, but he was nowhere near the weight that he had just last year.  The boy was slimming down, and Ron hated it.  He had enjoyed calling them fat and stupid.

 

“It could be Zabini,” Hermione mused.  “He’s very smart and he’s the silent type that would perhaps enjoy having a spokesperson.”

 

“No,” Ron said thoughtfully.  “He’s of foreign blood and that wouldn’t sit well with the other Slytherin’s, even if his mom might be of one of the old British families.”

 

“What family?” Harry asked.

 

“His mom was a Rosier,” Ron said.  “Death Eaters.  His uncle was the last Rosier Heir and now it is Zabini.”

 

Hermione wrinkled her nose at that.  “I didn’t realize he came from a Death Eater family,” she said.

 

“Ron said his uncle was, not that his parents were,” Harry defended briefly and then he frowned.

 

Ron looked at him briefly and then looked to Hermione and shrugged.  “It has to be Nott,” he said.

 

Hermione sighed.  “I suppose you are right.  I just didn’t think it would be so obvious.  But I did look up information on the Nott family and they are an ancient and noble house and they have a long history of being pure-bloods.”

 

Harry looked back toward the fire and tuned out his friends as they began to snip at each other about other things.  His mind replayed that moment in DADA again.  Theodore Nott informing Professor Lupin that the Slytherin’s would not participate, that it was the order of the Slytherin Prince.  Lyra’s hand on his wrist.  She caressed it, the movements were seemingly innocent, but perhaps they weren’t. 

 

He blinked once, then he leaned his head back and closed his green eyes.  Hermione had suspected that Nott was a spokesman, a front man for the Prince.  He saw it again, Lyra’s hand on Nott’s wrist and then the look on her face as she had pulled away.  The wry twist of her lips as she had said ‘The Prince of Slytherin has spoken.’ 

 

Suddenly he opened his eyes and blinked up at the ceiling.  Hermione was right!  Nott was the front man, the spokesperson for the Prince.  A shield or Knight meant to be a public face to protect the real Prince.  The Slytherin’s held to the Old Ways and the ancient practices.  That is what Dumbledore had told him last year after he had saved Satyra Malfoy.  If that was true, then they would honor the oldest bloodline that their House could boast.  Right now, the oldest bloodline in Slytherin House was Malfoy.  The Malfoy Heir was Lucius Malfoy’s oldest child, and that child was the only one of his children to have been sorted into Slytherin House.

 

‘Lyra,’ Harry thought.  ‘Lyra Malfoy is the Slytherin Prince.’

 

He didn’t have proof, but he didn’t need it.  Somehow, he just knew that he was correct.  This meant that Lyra’s closeness to Nott might not be as emotionally personal as he had feared.  That sent relief spiraling through him.  He chose not to examine it too closely.  He glanced briefly at Hermione and Ron, arguing over Ron’s laziness about doing their Charm’s assignment.  He was almost startled to realize that he had no intention to share his insight with his two friends.  It felt wrong for some reason.  It felt like it would be a betrayal of Lyra, which was very strange because they were not friends.

 

“I’m going up to bed,” Harry announced as he arose from his place on the sofa.

 

Hermione frowned at him.  “Harry, your homework,” she started but he cut her off.

 

“Already completed Hermione,” he told her and was pleased by how it startled her.  “I did it the first day it was assigned.”

 

“Oh,” she said.  “Good, I am really proud of you Harry,” she said and then turned on Ron.  “Now if only you could be more responsible like Harry,” she began to scold.

 

Harry moved past them, moving out of the line of fire.  He really didn’t want to listen to Hermione scolding Ron and he didn’t want to deal with Ron’s excuses for putting off his homework while he shot glares at Harry for being more responsible.  He trudged up the stairs to his dormitory.  Once within he made swift work of changing into his pajamas and climbing into his bed.  He sighed as he pulled the curtains around him, closing himself off into darkness.

 

He spent a few moments telling himself that he hadn’t told Hermione and Ron about his insight because he didn’t have proof.  Hermione would just be skeptical, and Ron would outright deny that Harry could be right without any solid proof.  Harry didn’t want to give them proof and that was so out of character for him that it left him staring worryingly up at the canopy of his bed for an hour before sleep finally claimed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. I hope to get the next chapter updated in a few weeks.


	10. Slytherin Fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Professor Lupin teaches the Slytherin's the Charm to repel a Boggart.

Chapter 9: Slytherin Fears  
   
Remus had been torn over the decision to allow the third year Slytherin students to make up their class on Boggarts. On the one hand, he thought it set a bad precedent to allow the children to make up a class that they had walked out on. It could settle the idea in the student’s heads that they could get away with such behavior in the future. It was only his concern for those students, that they needed to learn this spell that caused him to give in and allow them to make up the class. They would learn the spell, but he would not give them full marks on it. After all, they had missed the class participation and were forcing him to alter his schedule on a Saturday.  
   
He glanced at his office and smiled slightly when he thought of the young man who currently occupied a seat in his office. Harry had arrived thirty minutes ago to begin his first lesson on the Patronus Charm. Remus had hoped they would get to the practical application of the charm that day, but alas, he had to teach the wayward Slytherin’s how to defeat a Boggart. He doubted that he’d have time to get Harry doing the practical that weekend. He had given Harry two books that spoke about the Patronus Charm in various detail and had bid him read and take notes on the Charm while he dealt with the Slytherin’s. He hoped to deal with the Slytherin students swiftly. After all, what did they really have to fear?  
   
As if just thinking of them summoned them, the third year Slytherin’s filed into the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Remus took in the sight of them. Each of them was dressed in common clothes and he was surprised to see that both Pansy Parkinson and Lyra Malfoy were dressed in muggle denim. He would have thought that such clothes were beneath two ladies born to such ancient and dark houses. He had noticed during his short time teaching at Hogwarts that most of the Pure-blood heiresses dressed in skirts or slacks. He would never have pictured either Parkinson nor Malfoy wearing such decidedly Muggle attire.  
   
“I hope that each of you has taken the time to study up on Boggarts and the charm to defeat them,” Remus said with less joviality than he would have normally used. He was still feeling embittered toward these children for what they had done earlier in the week. If he hadn’t seen that Snape was angry over what his Snakes had done, then he would have thought that Snape had put them up to it as revenge for their school days. Remus felt ashamed that he had thought that Snape would use children as a tool for his own revenge. Snape had always stood alone against the four marauders. Their childhood rivalry had helped hone Snape into a formidable force. Remus would feel pride in it if he didn’t also feel that tendril of shame for all the times that they had hurt and humiliated the boy that Snape once was.  
   
“Yes Professor,” the boy, Theodore Nott, spoke up for the group of Slytherin’s.  
   
Remus took the time to study the boy. Most of the staff believed that this boy was the Slytherin Prince, the one that all other Slytherin students would listen to and look to for leadership and guidance. The Nott family was one of the old and powerful families and with the glaring fact that there was no Black and no male Malfoy in the school, it stood to reason that Nott would be the next best option. Still, there was something that didn’t settle right in his mind about the idea. There was something about the way that the Nott boy treated Lyra Malfoy. Remus sighed as he went to the cabinet that held the Boggart and put it into position for the students. He was being foolish. Just because the children were Slytherin’s didn’t mean that there was some sort of conspiracy to hide the real Slytherin Prince. There was likely an easy explanation for what he had seen of the Nott boy in his regard for Lyra Malfoy. Perhaps they were betrothed, or the Nott boy hoped that one day soon they would be.   
   
“Alright,” he said after he had arranged the cabinet and he nodded in approval when he noted that each of them had formed up into a line to face off against the Boggart. “Very good,” he praised. “Now, please remember the charm Mr. Nott,” he said.  
   
“Yes Professor,” Theodore Nott said. He then took up his position some feet before the cabinet.  
   
Remus nodded and opened the cabinet door. He watched as the Boggart left the cabinet transforming as it moved into the form of Orran Nott. Theodore’s father was dressed in expensive looking robes of deep burgundy. The man sneered as he looked at Theodore. “Worthless,” he hissed at the boy. “Just like your weak mother,” he sneered.  
   
Remus turned his gaze to Theo and watched as the boy swallowed hard.  
   
“Do it, Theo,” Remus heard the softly whispered voice of Lyra Malfoy speak. It was so softly spoken that Remus realized he wouldn’t have heard her if he didn’t possess enhanced hearing due to his lycanthropy.   
   
Apparently, the Nott boy heard her as well. He squared his shoulders and then raised his wand. “Riddikulus!” he said with strength and determination. The Boggart transformed then. Orran Nott no longer looked imposing and cold. Food was dripping from him. The children smiled, and a few laughed at the image.  
   
“Good Mr. Nott,” Remus told him. The boy gave him a polite nod and then turned away to go to the back of the line to stand beside Lyra Malfoy who was stationed at the end of the line.   
   
Remus didn’t feel comfortable with what he had seen. He had never dealt with Orran Nott. The man was much older than he was, and he and Remus did not move in the same circles. He couldn’t help wondering if Orran Nott was really that verbally abusive toward his only son and heir.  
   
“Miss Parkinson, it is your turn,” Remus called the proud girl forward. He was not particularly fond of this girl. He had seen her in the halls fighting with Harry’s friend, Hermione Granger. He liked Hermione. She was a smart and kind girl. Parkinson was smart but rude and proud.   
   
“Yes Professor,” Parkinson said, and Remus belatedly realized that Pansy Parkinson was looking terribly pale and shaking quite badly.  
   
“Take a few deep breaths to center yourself, Miss Parkinson,” Remus urged her and watched as she complied. She was still too pale, but she was no longer shaking quite so fiercely. When he thought she could handle the challenge of the Boggart, he released it. He watched in horror as the Boggart morphed into a large snake eating a child. Small whimpers and gasps were coming from the Parkinson heiress as she watched the scene. She raised her wand and stuttered the incantation. It was not at all a surprise that it didn’t work. The girl collapsed in tears after a second try.  
   
Remus watched as the Goyle boy, Gregory Goyle, strode forward to stand in front of Pansy, facing the Boggart. The Boggart looked at the boy and then morphed into the form of his father, Richard Goyle. At the man’s feet was a dead puppy, the head twisted in such a way that it was clear the man had broken its neck with his bare hands. Richard Goyle’s hand was tangled in the hair of Pansy Parkinson, who was on her knees before the man. Her face showed severe bruising, swelling, and cuts. It was clear that the violent man had been beating her. Remus felt his heart clench at the sight of this boy’s fear.  
   
The Parkinson heiress reached out a hand to the boy’s leg and gripped his slacks. “Gregory,” she whispered through her sobs.  
   
“Riddikulus!” Gregory Goyle said with great determination. The image of a beaten Pansy Parkinson disappeared and a loud squeaking product from Zonko’s was now gripped in the hand of Richard Goyle, who looked very bewildered. Flowers sprouted from the man's clothing and in his hair and the man began to sneeze. Then Gregory turned toward the Parkinson heiress and crouched down to her level. He pulled the crying girl into his arms and cradled her close. “Come on Pansy,” he said gently to her, crooning to her softly as she clung to him. “I’ve got you,” he promised her. “I’m here,” he said softly.  
   
Remus felt more than a little shaky now as he watched the boy lead her to a desk near the door. So far, these children had surprised him with their fears. He had thought that these pampered and spoilt children of the higher echelons of society would have simple fears like the House Elf giving them a food they didn’t like for breakfast or perhaps a fear of dust, mice, or spiders. He felt like a fool for making such assumptions. These children came from dark families. Most of them came from families that had served Voldemort. He knew that. He had also known the torment that Sirius had gone through in his own family. How could he have let himself just assume that these children had little to fear from their families?  
   
The next child was Millicent Bulstrode and Remus watched as she attempted to overcome her fear of a father who hated her for being born a girl instead of the desired son. It took her two tries to make the charm work. Remus watched as she had then stridden away with anger in every line of her posture. She joined Pansy and Greg in the back of the room. She put a comforting hand on Pansy’s shoulder.   
   
Then came Vincent Crabbe. The boy’s fear was of being locked away in a small dark place and left alone. It could be tame in comparison to the other children, except that Remus realized that the boy must have experienced this at least once to fear it so. Remus remembered the younger Crabbe’s father. The Senior Crabbe had been a vicious bully in school. He had constantly picked on the younger years and he delighted in singling out Hufflepuff’s to harass. Remus wondered now if Crabbe Senior abused his son? Vincent swiftly joined Parkinson, Goyle, and Bulstrode at the back of the room.  
   
The next child was Tracey Davis, who Remus had been surprised to learn was not a Pure-blood Slytherin. She was a half-blood. It was only when reviewing the student files for these Slytherin students that he had discovered that she was a half-blood. By the way that the Slytherin’s treated her, he would never have guessed. They treated her just as if she was one of their own. When he had been in school Slytherin’s would ostracize members of their own house that were not Pure-blooded. Apparently, the Slytherin Prince didn’t believe in ostracizing members of his House based on blood. That was interesting. He’d have to remember to talk to Albus about his observation. He watched as Tracey Davis left her place beside Daphne Greengrass. The two girl’s squeezed hands and then let go so that Tracey could take her position facing her greatest fear.  
   
Remus had been hopeful that this girl’s fear would be something more mundane. He was disappointed. The Boggart had morphed into the form of a small boy. Hazel eyes were glazed in death and staring, unseeing. He watched as Tracey Davis fought against a sob and raised her wand.   
   
“No, it’s not real. Not real,” the Davis girl chanted. Then she aimed the wand right at the Boggart and said loud and clear “Riddikulus!” The Boggart remained as a little boy, but he got up and dusted himself off and smiled brightly at her. “I fooled you Tracey!” the boy cried and laughed at her. A small smile curved her lips as she nodded.  
   
“Great job Tracey!” Daphne Greengrass exclaimed.  
   
Remus watched Davis smile at Greengrass and then meet the eyes of Lyra Malfoy. The Malfoy heiress gave a nod of respect to the Davis girl. Davis seemed to brighten even more at that and then she proceeded to the back of the room to join all the Slytherin’s who had faced the Boggart.   
   
“Mr. Zabini, if you would?” he requested.  
   
“No,” Daphne Greengrass said stepping forward. “Blaise will go after me,” she insisted.  
   
“Ladies first,” Blaise said easily, a smirk in place.  
   
Daphne moved forward then, brushing past the Zabini boy. Remus watched as she took up her position and then he released the Boggart once again. The Greengrass family was not a dark family and they had not sided with Voldemort in the last war. They had refused overtures from Dumbledore to join his Order of the Phoenix and that had unsettled Remus during the last war. He had wondered if perhaps the Greengrass family were secretly siding with Voldemort. Now he wondered if perhaps they were just waiting to see which side was going to win. Yet if that were true, they would have joined Voldemort in that final year of the war. He was clearly going to be the victor. Only a Pythia could have foreseen Voldemort’s defeat at the hands of a babe. He wasn’t sure what to make of Daphne Greengrass. From what he had observed thus far, she was a dear friend to Lyra Malfoy. She was poised and contained in a way that was like the Malfoy heiress. The two girls clearly had a similar temperament.   
   
The Boggart, when released, took on the form of a girl that Remus recognized from the sorting. Dark haired Astoria Greengrass lay dead just like the sibling of Tracey Davis had likewise lain a few moments before. With hard eyes, Daphne Greengrass stared at the Boggart mimicking her sister. “Riddikulus!” she cried out. A moment later the Boggart transformed to Astoria Greengrass sitting on the floor with a crup in her lap. The dog was licking her face and she was laughing. With a satisfied smile, Daphne Greengrass turned away and went to the back of the room.  
   
Remus resettled the Boggart, forcing it yet again back into the cupboard before he called Blaise Zabini forward. He only knew the rumors about the Zabini family. Rumors held that Madame Zabini was some sort of Black Widow who hunted rich and powerful men. She was a beautiful woman and Blaise was every bit as good looking. He was already a heart-throb in the school, and would no doubt become even more of one in the next few years. The boy seemed cold and aloof, but also gracious toward the ladies of his house.  
   
“Let’s get this over with, shall we?” the boy said in a bored tone.  
   
Remus nodded. “If you are ready,” he agreed.  
   
Blaise nodded and then Remus released the Boggart from the cabinet. He watched as the Boggart transformed into the dead body of Lyra Malfoy and then it morphed into the dead body of Arya Malfoy, then Satyra Malfoy and then it transformed into a dead Theodore Nott. Slowly it transformed into every single one of the Slytherin students in the room. Blaise swallowed hard and his hand trembled before tightening upon his wand. “Riddikulus!” he said and a moment later the Boggart transformed into a smiling Blaise Zabini.  
   
Remus would not have expected this cold boy to have feared the death of his friends. To be honest, he wasn’t altogether sure that Zabini had any friends. He had assumed that the Slytherin students in his year were just that, fellow students. It seemed that he was still falling into old habits that he had held as a child attending Hogwarts. He was assuming things about the Slytherin’s because he didn’t understand them. He had never tried hard to understand them. It was a trait he had noticed plenty of Gryffindor students engage in. It was easy to do due to the enmity between Gryffindor and Slytherin Houses.  
   
“Miss Malfoy,” he called after collecting the Boggart back into the cabinet.  
   
“Saved the best for last,” Theodore Nott, who had been standing back with Lyra Malfoy proclaimed.  
   
She gave him a glance but no more. She moved forward and took up a stance before the cabinet just a few feet away. “I am ready when you are Professor Lupin,” she said, and her voice didn’t waver in the slightest. He was positive that she was ready, and he found himself curious as to what her greatest fear would be. Perhaps the death of her sisters. He had been informed by a few of the Professors how fierce and frightened Lyra Malfoy had been at the end of the previous school year when her youngest sister had been taken into the Chamber of Secrets.  
   
He released the Boggart from the cabinet for the final time. He gasped when he noticed the form it was taking on. Lord Voldemort stood before them and in his hands, he was clutching an ancient looking book. He looked sinister and altogether too pleased by what he held in his hands. Remus wondered what the book was and why Lyra Malfoy feared the Dark Lord getting his hands on it? He inched closer from behind the Boggart in the hopes of perhaps seeing what the book was. Yet before he could make out much he heard Lyra Malfoy calmly utter the charm to dispel her fear.  
   
“Riddikulus!” she cried and a moment later the book changed into the Giant Book of Monsters that Rubeus Hagrid had assigned for his Care of Magical Creatures class. The book jumped forward and took a huge bite out of the Dark Lord. The other Slytherin students stared in astonishment for several moments before they burst into peals of laughter. The Boggart looked up with Voldemort’s hate-filled angry eyes. The children kept laughing and finally the Boggart dissipated.   
   
“The Old Dragon would be proud,” he heard Theodore Nott murmur to Lyra Malfoy as she passed him to go to the back of the room. She paused for a moment and nodded to Theo with a small smile curving her lips. Then the smile was gone, and the girl was moving to the other students. Remus watched as she asked Pansy if she were alright and up for trying again. The Parkinson heiress shook her head miserably, though Remus was pleased to see that she had ceased to cry.   
   
He cleared his throat then, gaining their attention. “I can understand now why you chose not to air these fears in front of your fellow students,” Remus admitted, and he hated admitting it. He hated the thought that the Slytherin students couldn’t trust their Gryffindor counterparts to comfort them and help give them the strength to overcome their fears. “You all did very well. Miss Parkinson, since you did so poorly in the application, I am assigning you extra homework. You’ll research Boggart’s and the charm to overcome their hold over us.”  
   
“Yes Professor,” Pansy Parkinson agreed with a subdued voice. Remus hated the sound of her so subdued.  
   
“Very well, you are dismissed students,” Remus told them.  
   
“Thank you, Professor Lupin,” a few of the children said while others nodded.  
   
He watched as they began to file out of the room. “Cheer up Pansy,” he heard Lyra Malfoy say to the girl. “I’ll help you find books about Boggarts and the Riddikulus Charm in the library tomorrow,” she said.  
   
“I thought you would go to Hogsmeade,” the girl admitted.  
   
“There’ll be plenty of Hogsmeade weekends,” Lyra Malfoy waved away.  
   
He saw Pansy Parkinson smile in gratitude before she schooled her features. It was like a mask was raised and he swiftly noticed that each of his Slytherin students had done the same as they began to exit the classroom. Gone was any hint of vulnerability. These children felt like they couldn’t show weakness among the other students of the school. The thought made him feel sick at heart.  
   
Once the students had gone, Remus waved his wand, using voiceless magic to close the door. “You can come out now Harry,” he said looking pointedly at the corner of the classroom where he knew Harry Potter was sitting beneath a very familiar Invisibility Cloak. He watched in amusement as Harry slowly pulled the cloak off himself.  
   
“How did you know?” Harry asked, curiosity bright in the green eyes that reminded him of the boy’s mother.  
   
“I have my ways,” Remus chuckled. “Now, perhaps we should talk about what you saw, hmm?”  
   
Harry nodded slowly and he looked a little bit ashamed for having spied on the Slytherin’s lesson. “I wanted to know what they were hiding,” Harry admitted. “I thought it justified since they saw our fears.”  
   
Remus didn’t have to ask about who Harry meant by “Our”. He knew Harry was referring to the other third-year Gryffindor’s. “Very well,” he said. “But now that you know, you will promise not to use those fears in any arguments with them,” he told Harry. He expected a protest. James would have protested. Instead, Harry immediately nodded.  
   
“This isn’t like someone being afraid of spiders. Some of their fears,” Harry paused for a moment. “Professor Lupin, some of their fears has to mean that they experienced something like it already. Parkinson’s fear was just too vivid. Crabbe’s face when he faced his fear, it was like he knew exactly how it felt to be trapped in a cramped dark place. And even Nott’s fear was vivid enough that I think he’s endured that from that man.”  
   
It was the way that Harry referred to Nott that perked Remus’s curiosity. There was something in Harry’s voice that suggested that he didn’t like the boy, but he had not heard of any serious altercations between the two boys. Remus decided that he’d keep a watch on Harry’s interactions with Theodore Nott. “I think that you are right,” he agreed. “What did you think of the others?” he asked curiously.  
   
“I think that Bulstrode has heard those words before,” Harry said as he contemplated each of the student's fears. “I don’t think that the man, her father I think,” he smiled slightly when Remus nodded that it was indeed her father. “I don’t think that he’s ever said it to her face, but he has said it within her hearing and it must have hurt her since it’s her fear that he’ll tell her directly.”  
   
“Very good,” Remus said agreeing with Harry’s assessment.  
   
Harry smiled bashfully at the praise. It was clear that he was not used to be praised for getting something right. “Both Davis and Greengrass had similar fears. Both feared for what looked to be a younger sibling,” Harry said. “It isn’t just the death though that bothers them. I think that the Boggart showing them their dead sibling makes them feel that they failed to protect and nurture their younger sibling.”  
   
Remus smiled again. “Very good Harry,” he praised again. “You are quite correct. Most think that a Boggart simply shows us an image of something we fear but it goes deeper than that. By showing us the image, it reminds us why we fear it.”  
   
“Zabini surprised me,” Harry admitted. “I didn’t really think that he had friends. He’s smooth with the ladies, but I thought he was just,” he trailed off and his expression was grim. “I thought he was just a charmer with no real substance underneath.”  
   
“I confess that I was also surprised that Zabini cared so much for his fellow Slytherin’s and for the Malfoy sisters,” Remus confessed to Harry. He saw the surprise in the boy’s eyes. “Oh Harry, you are not the only one who can fall for the masks that the Slytherin’s put up. I too had assumed that Mr. Zabini was all flash and little substance. Now we both know better.”  
   
“Yeah,” Harry said and exhaled shakily. He looked troubled as he thought about Zabini or rather what Zabini’s Boggart had shown them. “He fears to lose them and to be alone. I think he fears to fail them somehow,” his brow furrowed in thought. “I don’t know how he fears he’ll fail them just that he does.”  
   
Remus mulled over Harry’s words for a moment as his own thoughts flowed. The Zabini’s were notorious for looking out for their own interests alone. They didn’t become attached to people. This was another reason why Remus had assumed that Blaise Zabini was all flash and no substance. Perhaps that was it! Zabini’s were supposed to look out for themselves alone. They had no joined Grindelwald and they had not joined Voldemort. They also had not joined those sides who had chosen to fight against each of those Dark Lords.  
   
“The Zabini family has a long history of neutrality when it comes to politics. They didn’t side with either of the last two Dark Lords nor did they side with those who fought against them,” Remus explained to Harry. “This Zabini appears to be different. He has affection for his friends and he does not want to lose them by doing nothing.”  
   
Harry nodded slowly as he contemplated what he had seen. “That makes sense,” he said softly.  
   
“What of Gregory Goyle?” Remus asked of Harry.  
   
“That one was a bit confusing,” Harry admitted. “I think the dead pup really happened so that wasn’t a fear because he couldn’t fear it being killed again,” he mused. “But that it was incorporated in the fear I think suggests that he feared that the man was going to do the same thing to Parkinson. That man had clearly been beating her,” he told Remus with a hard glint in his eyes.  
   
“Very good,” Remus again praised Harry. “The man was Gregory’s father, Richard Goyle. The man was a Death Eater. He does not have a reputation as a very kind man. He was a bully in school along with his friend Victor Crabbe. Both men targeted the younger years. They were a few years older than your parents and me,” he revealed to Harry.  
   
Harry nodded at that and it was clear that Harry was curious about his parents and their school days, he didn’t ask. “The one that confused me the most was Lyra Malfoy’s Boggart,” he admitted to Remus. “It was Voldemort. I know his face from my first year,” he said referring to his encounter with Voldemort when he was using Quirrell to sustain him while he tried to get the Philosopher’s Stone. “Voldemort holding a book. She was less afraid of Voldemort himself and more afraid of him having that book,” Harry insisted.  
   
Remus blinked at that. “Are you sure it was more about the book than the man,” he asked. It felt absurd to refer to Voldemort as a man. He had clearly given up being a man in favor of being a monster a very long time ago. Probably before Remus was born.  
   
“I know Lyra,” Harry went on with conviction ringing in his tone. “It was definitely about that book. Her fear was Voldemort having that book. Why?”  
   
Remus stared into green eyes that were hard and determined. At that moment Harry didn’t remind him of James nor of Lily. He was completely his own person and not a shadow of his parents, Remus’s beloved friends. “I don’t know. I saw very little of the book. The script of the page was handwritten so it was not a published book.”  
   
Harry nodded at that. “I wasn’t close enough to get a look at it,” he told Remus. “I was at the right spot to watch the Boggart and to watch them. Lyra’s eyes were focused more on that book than on Voldemort. It was all about the book for her.”  
   
Remus tilted his head as he contemplated what Harry was saying. “Not quite just the book,” he said and held up a hand when Harry began to protest. “No, you are right about the book, but it isn’t just about the book, Harry,” Remus assured Harry. “She feared it falling into the Voldemort’s hands.”  
   
Harry blinked. “You say his name,” he mused. “I cannot get Ron to say it.”  
   
Remus chuckled. “I did my share of fighting against him during the last war, Harry,” he said lightly even though it was not a light subject. He tried not to think too much about the last war. He honored his lost friends, but he tried not to dwell on how they had died and the injustice of it all. If monsters like Voldemort didn’t exist, then war’s like that would never happen.  
   
“Right,” Harry said swiftly, accepting the knowledge that Remus was a warrior against Voldemort and his Death Eaters in the last war. “So, the book might be important then?” he asked as he once more contemplated what he saw of Lyra Malfoy’s Boggart.  
   
“I think it is a very real possibility,” he agreed with Harry.  
   
“Then we need to learn more about that book,” Harry said.  
   
Remus chuckled then.  
   
“What’s so funny?” Harry asked slightly defensive.  
   
“Nothing,” Remus assured him. “It is just that you reminded me of your father just then.”  
   
Harry looked curious once more. “Could you tell me about them?” he asked quietly. “I’ve heard a few things, but well, you were good friends with them, weren’t you?”  
   
Remus nodded his head. “Yes, I knew your parents quite well. I knew your father a little better than your mother,” he admitted. He thought briefly to direct Harry to Severus for questions about his mother but then thought better of it. From what he had seen, Severus disliked Harry and the feeling seemed to be mutual. That was a pity for few people knew a younger Lily Evans better than Severus Snape.  
   
Remus moved forward then and put his arm around Harry leading the boy back into his office. “I first met your father on the Hogwarts Express when I was a first-year heading to Hogwarts for the first time,” Remus began as he and Harry settled in for a long chat. It looked like Remus was correct, they would not be getting to the practical application of the Patronus Charm that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you readers for your patience as I struggled with this chapter.  I had family issues come up that made writing difficult.  First a sibling and then my father spent time in the hospital.  Things were a bit crazy for a while but everyone seems to be on the mend.  Coming up with the fears of the Slytherin students took me a while and then more time in coming up with what the Boggart would like after they mastered the spell.  Let's face it, we cannot all be awesome like Neville when he conquered his Boggart of Snape.  Harry snooping on the Slytherin's... really who didn't see that coming.  Harry is a curious guy and he would want to know what the Slytherin's were so afraid of that they refused to participate in the class with the Gryffindor's. 


	11. The Black Dog

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Malfoy Twins find a Grim on Hogsmeade Weekend.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It feels wonderful to visit with Lyra and Harry again and be able to write them! I apologize for the wait!

Chapter 10: The Black Dog

 

Lyra watched her twin sister with a bemused expression.  Arya had noticed something dark among the snow and trees and had rushed forward toward it.  It was the first Hogsmeade Weekend and they had just escaped from the clutches of Pansy Parkinson, Gregory Goyle, and Vincent Crabbe.  She liked her friends, but they had exhausted her by dragging her into the clothing and jewelry stores.  Lyra liked shopping for jewelry and clothes like any other girl, but shopping with Pansy was a horrifying experience.

 

“What do you think it is?” Daphne asked her.

 

“An animal I think,” Lyra responded.  She was happy to have Daphne at her side instead of Pansy.  She liked and respected the Parkinson Heiress, but the girl was a trial at the best of times.  After a morning spent shopping with the other girl and listening to her complain about the cold, Lyra had reached the end of her tolerance.  Daphne was a better companion with few, if any, complaints.

 

“Lyra come, quick!” Arya’s voice brought her attention back to her sister.  She rushed over with hurried steps, her boots crunching in the snow.  When she reached Arya’s side she gasped at what she saw.

 

It was indeed an animal.  A large black dog that looked a great deal like the stories of the Church Grims.  He was severely malnourished, and he had a cut on his side that was bleeding.  She sank down in the snow beside the animal to examine the cut.  “Hold his head,” she ordered Arya.  Her sister did, using her lap as a pillow for the poor thing.  Then Lyra drew her wand and swiftly but precisely murmured the spell that would knit the wound back.  The dog whimpered and whined, and Daphne sank to her knees on the other side of the animal and gently placed hands upon him to help hold him down.  At this, the animal tried to fight them to rise.

 

“Be still!” Lyra snapped the order and the Dog turned his head to look at her.  His eyes seemed to stare deep into her own and she felt a strange tingling sensation rush through her.  This dog was certainly a magical creature of some sort.  “You are safe with us,” she said this time, her voice gentler.  “We won’t hurt you like others have,” she murmured soothingly.

 

Arya’s eyes were bright with tears.  “Who would treat a pretty animal like him so horribly?” she asked.

 

“I don’t know, but whoever did should be whipped,” Daphne snarled.  She was a well-known lover of both plants and animals.

 

“It might have been because he looks like a Grim,” Lyra mused as she inspected her handiwork.  The spell had worked to seal the wound, but it wouldn’t cure his malnutrition.  “I bet he looks really beautiful when he is healthy,” she mused.

 

“What are we going to do about him?” Arya asked her.  “We can’t just leave him here and hope for the best.  Clearly, the villagers have hurt him,” she added.

 

Lyra nodded grimly.  Arya was right.  The villagers had probably been scared by the sight of him and tried to run him off.  They were probably afraid of the legends about Grims.  “We’ll take him to Hogwart’s,” Lyra declared.

 

“But, we cannot have dogs in the castle,” Daphne reminded her.  “Cats, Toads, and Owls,” the blond-haired Greengrass Heiress reminded her.

 

Arya scowled at that.  “Ronald Weasley has a pet rat,” she said, and the Dog’s head jerked up at that.  Arya began to pet his head to soothe him.  “See, the poor thing must have been living on rats!” she said horrified.

 

“Dumbledore will make exceptions for the Weasley’s because they are Gryffindor’s, but he will not make any exceptions for us,” Daphne continued.

 

Lyra frowned at that.  “We cannot leave him here, so we are taking him to Hogwart’s.  We’ll take him to Mr. Hagrid.  He knows a great deal about caring for magical creatures and he has his own dog, so he’ll know something about helping our new friend here,” she said with a soft smile as she gently touched the animal.  Again, she felt the tingling feeling.  It was as if her magic was trying to do something or tell her something.  “Daphne and I will talk to our Head of House and Arya, I suggest you talk to Professor Flitwick about our new friend as well.”

 

Arya nodded her head in agreement.  “Only if you come with me.”

 

Lyra nodded.  “Sure, we’ll tell our Heads of House together.  We’ll need them both to assist us with Professor Dumbledore.”

 

“Alright, but how are we going to get him to the castle?” Daphne asked.  “He might be light enough for us to lift due to how malnourished he is, but he probably shouldn’t be hefted around like that.  He needs to be checked for internal injuries.  He may have bruising or worse, internal bleeding.

 

Lyra frowned at that. She didn’t know how to check for that.  Her mother had taught her how to heal cuts but not how to check for internal injuries.  “We’ll have to use magic to float him to the school.”

 

The dog whined at that and she gave him a sympathetic look.  “I am sorry, I know that magic was probably used on you to hurt you and you have no reason to believe I have any other intention,” she said to the animal.

 

“Really, we just want to help you,” Arya added.  “I promise we won’t hurt you,” she soothed the large dog.

 

“Okay, so we’ll use magic to float him to the school,” Daphne said going over the plan.  “So far he is responding best to the two of you so you two will be the ones to secure him and to float him.  I’ll walk just ahead of you and try to run interference,” she said.

 

Lyra nodded.  “It’s the best plan we are going to get right now so let’s do this,” she said.

 

The crunch of footsteps behind her made her jerk around, wand drawn.  She couldn’t see anyone as she scanned around her, but there was something there.  She was sure of it.

 

“Lyra, there’s no one,” Arya said more focused on getting the dog to Rubeus Hagrid.

 

Lyra frowned and continued to scan the area and then she noticed it.  In the snow there were footsteps and they had walked right up to her.  Slowly she reached forward and grasped a bit of cloth.  She heard a gasp from within the cloth as she attempted to pull it.  The other person pulled back and she tumbled forward collapsing into something solid, legs she thought.  She heard an oof sound come from the person as he fell down.  When he fell, his head popped out of the protective covering of the invisibility cloak and she saw the dark head and handsome face of Harry Potter.

 

“Potter!” Daphne hissed, and Lyra was grateful in that moment that her friend had not yelled.

 

Lyra stared at Potter for a few moments, letting her mind process what she had just learned.  Harry Potter, who didn’t have permission to go to Hogsmeade today was at Hogsmeade.  Harry Potter had an invisibility cloak.  It was leverage.  She could use this against Harry and she had every intention of doing so.

 

He started to scramble up, but Lyra kept herself firmly planted upon his invisibility cloak when the boy tried to grab it.  “No need to run off Potter,” she said in a tone that was mild and contemplative.  “You were clearly curious about what was going on here,” she added.  “Come meet our new friend,” she implored.

 

Potter watched her with cautious green eyes, but he slowly nodded, and he came over beside her and lowered himself to his knees beside the dog.  “What happened to him?”

 

Lyra felt a slight shiver go through her at Potter’s nearness.  They were not friends, would probably never be friends, but she had the sinking feeling that she would always be affected by Harry Potter in ways that she didn’t wish to be affected.  “We aren’t sure of all that he has suffered,” she admitted.

 

“Arya saw him first, huddled by this tree,” Daphne helped to explain.  She ran forward to him first and then she called us over.  He was wounded.  It looked like a cutting hex had caught him on the side of his belly just there,” she said and gently pointed to the sealed-up wound.  “Lyra sealed his wound.”

 

Harry looked at Lyra in surprise then, a question in those green eyes.  She didn’t know what the question was, but she chose to explain a little anyway.

 

“My mother taught me that healing spell years ago when she had to heal up yet another cut from my cousin, Nymphadora.  Poor Dora is a formidable Witch, but she can be very clumsy.”

 

“When you came upon us, we were just debating how to get him to Mr. Hagrid so he could help our new friend here,” Arya added.  “We don’t think we can carry him, despite how light he must be due to malnourishment.”

 

“So, you want to take him to Hagrid so that he’ll help him?” Harry said even as he gently began to pet the dog.  The dog responded well to him.  He seemed happier with Harry there.

 

“Leaving him here will kill him,” Lyra said simply.  “If the elements don’t do him in while he’s like this then the villagers will.  That cut was definitely from a wand,” she told him.  “He needs shelter and care.  Mr. Hagrid is a kind soul, he’ll be willing to help us take care of him,” she said, and she was positive of that fact.

 

Mr. Rubeus Hagrid, the Head Groundskeeper of Hogwarts, now held the proud distinction of being the new Care of Magical Creatures Professor.  Hagrid had been framed as the one who had opened the Chamber of Secrets when he was a teenager.  He had been framed, if the papers were to be believed, by a young Voldemort who was also a student at Hogwarts at the time.  Hagrid’s wand had been snapped and he had been expelled from Hogwarts, no longer able to learn magic and no longer licensed to carry a wand.  Of course, Albus Dumbledore had hired him to work as the Groundskeeper as soon as he had become the Headmaster of Hogwarts School.  The previous year, Minister Fudge had insisted upon arresting Mr. Hagrid due to the Chamber of Secrets having been opened once more.

 

She shivered to think about what life must have been like for Mr. Hagrid.  Magic coursing through his veins and unable to legally use it.  Framed for a crime he didn’t commit.  It must have been horrible!  Despite all of that, Mr. Hagrid was a kind-hearted person.  He loved magical creatures and he loved the kids at Hogwarts.  She was sure that he’d help them with their Grim.

 

Harry stared at her for a moment more before he slowly smiled at her.  “You’ll never get him out of Hogsmeade without half the village seeing and knowing where you are taking him.  If they are really the ones who have hurt him, then they won’t like that.”

 

Lyra nodded.  “Have you a better idea?” she asked him hoping that he was about to volunteer his help like she thought he would.

 

Harry didn’t disappoint her.  “I can carry him under the invisibility cloak.”

 

Lyra smiled brightly at Harry then and a bit of color rose to his cheeks.  It was probably from the cold, she decided.  The dog let out a sort of huff that seemed like he was amused by the whole thing.

 

“We should walk close behind Potter,” Daphne suggested.  “Right on his heels or almost on his heels so that we can cover his tracks,” she said.

 

Harry nodded his agreement at that.

 

“Remind me sometime Potter to teach you the spell to conceal your tracks in the snow,” Lyra told him.

 

He looked at her with surprise in his eyes.  “Sure,” he said.  “That would be great,” he said.  Then he arose and grabbed his invisibility cloak.  “Why aren’t you rushing off to tell one of the Professor’s about me being here?” he asked them then.

 

Daphne giggled at that.  Arya smiled at him as though he were terribly funny.  Lyra sighed.  “Potter, I’m not a tattle-tale, nor are Arya and Daphne.  Furthermore, I don’t like to be hypocritical,” she said.

 

“What?” he asked, clearly confused.

 

“I don’t know why you were not allowed to go to Hogsmeade this weekend and it isn’t any of my business,” she said.  “But, if I were in your shoes, I would have wanted to go too and if I had a means to go undetected to just look around a bit like you obviously do, then I would have done it,” she smiled at him.  “So, I can’t blame you.  Besides, other than breaking a school rule, you aren’t hurting anyone.”

 

“Oh,” he said simply and that was the end of it.  He watched her curiously for another moment but then he surprised her by handing her the cloak.  “Settle this over us once I have him settled in my arms,” he told her.

 

“Right,” she agreed and wasn’t it crazy that she and Potter were being so amicable.  They were working well together, so far.

 

She watched as he knelt to the dog.  “Hey boy,” he said gently.  “I’m going to pick you up and carry you to our friend, Hagrid.  He knows a great deal about animals and he’ll be able to help take care of you.”

 

The dog licked Harry’s hand causing the Boy Who Lived to smile.  It was, Lyra realized with a jolt, the first real smile she had seen from Potter this year.  Harry then carefully picked up the dog and held him close in his arms.  Arya helped Harry to settle the dog more comfortable for the long walk back to the castle.

 

Lyra smiled at Harry and he smiled back and nodded at her.  That was enough, the signal to put the cloak over him.  She put the cloak over his head and she and Daphne swiftly set about making sure that it would completely cover him.

 

“Lead the way, Harry, and we’ll follow you and cover your tracks,” Lyra promised.

 

“Right,” he said and then he began walking.  Lyra fell into step behind him along with Arya and Daphne.  Both she and her sister were using magic to make all of Harry’s steps disappear.  Their own shuffled steps right behind him helped to obscure his tracks, but their spells were helping as well.  Harry’s foot size was larger than their own.

 

“Let’s hope we don’t run into Pansy on the way back,” Daphne said.

 

“Don’t borrow trouble,” Lyra teased.

 

Arya frowned at that.  “I thought you liked Pansy,” she said.

 

“We do,” Daphne was swift to assure.  “She just wore us out with shopping this morning,” she said with a long-suffering sigh.  “She could live in a clothing store.

 

“No.  She’d rather be draped in diamonds,” Lyra said making the other to girls laugh and even Harry huffed out a muffled laugh.  She felt a pleasing warmth rush through her at the knowledge that she had made Harry laugh.

 

It was a good stroke of fortune that allowed them to arrive at Rubeus Hagrid’s hut without any of their various friends coming upon them.  Lyra chose to take Harry’s cloak off of him when they were nearing the door of the Gameskeeper’s hut.  There was no need to broadcast that Harry had an invisibility cloak if they didn’t have to.

 

She swiftly folded up the cloak and then she knocked upon Hagrid’s door.  She heard his voice calling out that he’d be just a moment and then a few moments later the door was opened.  Rubeus Hagrid blinked in confusion when he saw Harry Potter standing before him with a dog in his arms, flanked by the Malfoy twins and the Greengrass Heiress.  Lyra thought it must have been a strange sight.  No doubt, Mr. Hagrid was used to seeing Harry with his friends Granger and Weasley.

 

“Hi Hagrid,” Harry said taking control of the conversation.  “We need your help with this guy,” he began.

 

“Oh,” Hagrid said simply and then seemed to truly take notice of the poor creature held in Harry’s arms.  “Come in, come in,” he said ushering them into his home.

 

Once they were inside, Lyra was once again grateful that Pansy had not been with them.  It was a cozy little hut with many hand-made items.  Lyra imagined that Mr. Hagrid either made them himself or he had to order them specially made due to his size.  Considering that his salary wasn’t very high, she thought he probably made them himself.  This made Lyra more appreciative of the Half-Giant and the skills he must possess.  Pansy would not have seen that.  She would have sneered at how small the man’s home was and she would have been rude to Mr. Hagrid. 

 

“Where did ye find this poor fella?” Mr. Hagrid asked of Harry.

 

Harry opened his mouth to speak but Lyra swiftly cut him off.  “My sister found him in the woods just outside of Hogsmeade Village,” she declared.

 

Arya took that as her cue.  “He was just lying there on the ground and he had a slash on his side.  It looked like he had been hit with a slashing hex,” she said saddened just by remembering it.  “I called Lyra over since I knew that she could heal the poor thing,” she said, and she reached for the dog again, gently petting him.

 

Lyra nodded when Mr. Hagrid looked at her.  “My mother taught me how to heal cuts when I was younger,” she said simply.  “I healed him, but he’s so malnourished and based on that cut alone I would say that some of the villagers were trying to run him off.”

 

“Aye, that sounds abou righ,” Hagrid said, nodding his head and his big hand gently went over the healed cut.  “Terribly misunderstood creatures, Grims are,” he told them.  “Most think that they bring about death,” he said.

 

“Death?” Harry asked curiously as he came forward to stand closer to the dog.  This brought him up against Lyra, leaning slightly against her.  She stole a glance at him and felt her face burn slightly before she looked away to focus on what Mr. Hagrid was telling them.

 

“Aye, Grims are associated with Death,” the Half-Giant told them.  “Many have twisted the legends of the Grims to mean death because death has often occurred when one sees a Grim.”

 

“Then they do mean that someone will die?” Harry asked.

 

“Not necessarily,” Lyra said.  “What most of the legends focus on is the death of the offender, but many like to forget that the one who dies created a terrible offense,” she told Harry, turning her gaze to study his face.  “Grim’s are protectors, Potter,” she said gently.  “They protect the good and they punish the profane.  This Grim would have been a protector to the people of Hogsmeade and instead they abused him and turned him away,” she said the last with disgust in her voice.

 

“Aye,” Hagrid agreed as he gently looked at the dog.  “It migh be a good omen tha this Grim is now here at Hogwarts, wha with Sirius Black on the loose,” he said.

 

Lyra didn’t disagree with him.  Black was probably after Potter and she didn’t want Black to get near Potter.  Maybe the Grim was here to protect Harry?  It was an interesting thought.  Grims protected the good from the profane.  Sirius Black had betrayed Harry’s parents, he had betrayed James Potter whom he had once declared his sworn brother.  He had betrayed his God-son into the hands of a Monster.  There could be no worse profanity, surely.

 

“We couldn’t just leave him.  I don’t think he would have survived the winter,” Lyra admitted to Hagrid.  “We were hoping that you would know how to take care of him and that you could teach us how so that we could help him get healthy again.”

 

Arya nodded.  “We intend to talk to our Heads of House about him and hopefully they’ll understand that he needs help and would die if we left him alone out there.”

 

“I intend to speak to Professor McGonagall as well,” Harry added.

 

Arya smiled at him.  “That is great.  That is three Heads of House if we can convince them to see things our way,” she said.

 

“It’s not as if we are asking for him to reside in the Castle,” Daphne said.  “That would be wonderful, but he is rather large, and he might scare a few of the first years.  He’ll probably scare many of the types who believe in the stories about Grims,” she added thoughtfully.

 

“I’ll talk to tha Headmaster about him,” Hagrid told them.  “He can stay with me until he feels better and then he can live in the stable,” he added.  “I can teach a class on Grims and he’ll help by being a present example.  Not easy to find a Grim.  They have ta be willing to come ta you,” he told them.

 

Lyra felt relieved that Hagrid would go so far as to petition Dumbledore to allow the Grim sanctuary and to become part of his lesson plan.  “That’ll be good,” she said.  “Seeing how nice this guy is might help people to really pay attention to the lesson instead of just focus on the part about death.”

 

“You kids go on and see if ya can talk to the Professor’s,” Hagrid told them.  “I’ll keep yer knew friend company and check ‘im over for any internal bruising.”

 

Arya beamed at him then.  “Thank you so much, Mr. Hagrid,” She said and then she stunned the Half-Giant by giving him a hug.  Lyra fought the urge to snicker.  The Half-Giant didn’t seem to know what to make of a Malfoy hugging him.

 

Harry chuckled, his breath falling on her neck from his position behind her.  It caused a shiver to race through her.  Potter really didn’t seem to care that he was in her personal space.

 

Arya swiftly let go of Mr. Hagrid and then looked at Lyra.  “Should we divide and conquer or do we stick together and go from Head of House to Head of House?”

 

It was on the tip of Lyra’s tongue to say divide to cover more ground more swiftly, but she hesitated.  Potter was the wild card.  She couldn’t trust him to be cunning enough not to give away the fact that he had been in Hogsmeade.  “Together,” she decided.

 

“That’s not necessary,” Harry argued.  “We could gather more ground if I just went to talk to Professor McGonagall and let you go to Professor Snape,” he said.

 

Lyra turned fully to look at him and really, he was far too close.  “Are you that afraid of Professor Snape?” she asked conveying both challenge and amusement to her tone of voice.  Harry Potter always rose to a challenge.

 

“Of course not,” he said as his eyes narrowed at her.  “Good, then it is decided.  “We’ll go now and speak with Professor McGonagall,” she told him.

 

Daphne smirked.  “Better to get her on our side first.  Then we can wrangle Professor Snape and then Professor Flitwick,” she said.

 

“And if Professor Snape is annoyed that you went to McGonagall first?” Harry asked.

 

Lyra smiled sweetly at him.  “Then I’ll politely explain that we thought it best because she is the Deputy Headmistress and she would know best whether this was something that should be brought to the attention of the Headmaster,” she said with an air of innocence that had Harry chuckling.

 

“Let’s go,” Daphne urged.  “We should try the Professor’s lounge first.  With any luck, we’ll catch several of the Professor’s there together and we can tell all our targets at once,” she said.

 

Lyra watched Harry nod his agreement.  “Right,” he agreed.  “Come on then,” he said, and he reached out and took Lyra’s hand to lead her from the cabin.  He seemed to realize he was holding her gloved hand after they had taken a few steps from the cabin and he slowly released it.  “Er, sorry about that,” he began.

 

“It’s fine,” she said swiftly feeling her cheeks grow warm.  Really it was stupid.  He hadn’t even held her bare hand.  He had just reached for her and it had seemed so natural.  Like they were meant to touch, meant to reach out to each other.  She shook the silly thoughts away and continued to walk beside Harry.  “You were just trying to get me to hurry and you’re right,” she was mortified to find herself rambling.  “The sooner we can talk to the Professors the sooner we can secure that the Grim can stay, at least until the end of the year.”

 

“What do you mean until the end of the year?” Harry asked her.

 

“Well, he’ll need a home,” she said.  “I cannot ask Mr. Hagrid to take care of him permanently because that might get expensive and it isn’t fair for Mr. Hagrid to have to pay for his upkeep.  I’ll take care of it,” she said with a slight wave of her hand.  “I’ll take him home with me to White Hall,” she told Harry.

 

“White Hall?” he asked.  “I thought you lived at Malfoy Manor?”

 

“White Hall is my mother’s Dower Property,” she explained to Harry.  “It is my mother’s home and my father does not have access to it.  My sister’s and I live there with my mother.”

 

Harry frowned at that.  “So, you don’t live with your father?” he asked.

 

Lyra eyed him speculatively but decided to trust him with the truth.  It wasn’t as if most of the Slytherin’s didn’t already know anyway.  “Due to the events of last year, my mother removed us to live at White Hall away from my father’s influence,” she told him.  “She doesn’t trust him with our safety and well-being.”

 

He blinked at that and then his gaze turned thoughtful.  “I have heard some pretty terrible things about your father,” he hedged.

 

She frowned at that.  “I don’t know what all you have heard, Potter,” she told him.  “I would guess that less than half of it is true,” she confided.  “Lucius Malfoy is not a kind man and he’s a blood-purist so that means he’s a bigot,” she told him plainly and really it felt liberating to share this point of view with Harry.  “Many things that have been blamed on him had nothing to do with him,” she added because she really did want Harry to understand a little bit about her father.  “Oh, he’s a dangerous dark wizard, but he isn’t quite the monster he’s painted out to be simply because they make it seem like he went out and viciously slaughtered families.  My father isn’t the sort of man to get his own hands dirty,” she told Harry.  “Last year was proof of that, don’t you think?” she asked him.

 

He frowned at that but nodded his agreement.  “I think he’s a bit too clever to be caught.  Even last year we couldn’t have pinned the diary on him.  There was no way to say that he had been the one to give it to Ginny,” he said.

 

She nodded her head in agreement.  “Exactly,” she said.  “Lucius is dangerous because he is so cunning and clever,” she said with a sigh.

 

“I’m glad that you are away from him then,” Harry said softly.

 

She glanced at him in surprise but didn’t say anything more as they were nearing a few of the first and second years who were playing in the snow just outside the castle.

 

“Come on,” Harry said.  “Let’s go explain ourselves to the Professor’s,” he said.

 

She nodded but then grabbed his hand and pulled him into an alcove a few moments after they entered the castle.  “Wait!” she hissed softly as she pulled him into the alcove.  “Here,” she said pushing his folded invisibility cloak into his hands.  “You really wouldn’t want to lose this,” she pointed out.

 

He nodded and smiled at her in gratitude.  He shoved as much of it as he could into his coat pocket.  “Thanks,” he said.

 

“Be careful in how you use that,” she told him.  “Some are sensitive to magic and that cloak is magic.”

 

He nodded and began to leave the alcove, but she put herself in his way to stop him.  He gave her a look that she read all too easily.  ‘What now?’

 

Lyra leaned closer, settling into his personal space and she delighted in watching those green eyes go wide as she inched her lips closer to his.  “Don’t let them know you were in Hogsmeade,” she whispered close to his lips.  “We’ll tell them that we found the dog in Hogsmeade and brought it to Hogwarts.  If anyone asks about your part in the story, we’ll say that you were gallant and carried the dog for us once we got the dog onto the school grounds.  Agreed?”

 

Harry stared into her eyes a moment more before he slowly whispered.  “Agreed.”

 

“Good,” she said and then she leaned back out of his personal space and turned away from the Alcove.  She felt Potter beside her a moment later and she let the Golden Boy of Gryffindor House lead the way to the Professor’s Lounge.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgive me but I really don't write Hagrid's speech patterns very well!


End file.
